


Finding Freedoms

by flightinflame



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Consent Issues, Dirk Gently Needs a Hug, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Osmund Priest is his own warning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Imbalance, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Project Icarus (Dirk Gently)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 05:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16549562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Agent Cjelli (C.J. to his friends) has been a member of Blackwing for eighteen years, and working cases for the past four. He mainly wants to visit Project Lamia and go outside, but has found himself increasingly drawn to his coworker, Lieutenant Assistent. When Agent Black is assigned to their team, his life changes more than he ever could have imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

"Assistent?" Agent Black called out as she returned from the coffee room, balancing three drinks expertly. Black was the single most competent human that Michael had ever met, and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't thank every one of the gods that C.J. rambled about that she was on their side.  
"Here!" He waved from under his latest pile of papers.  
"Oh, Agent Black, you are wonderful," C.J. swept over, deftly lifting his cup of tea from between the two coffees, and folding his long legs so that he could perch on the edge of her desk. "Honestly, Supervisor Riggins is a fool for not appreciating you, but his loss is our gain, so," C.J. took a slurp of his tea and grinned. "You're our problem now."

Agent Black rolled her eyes, glancing at Michael with a look of fond exasperation that C.J. often cultivated in those around him as she passed him his coffee.  
"Is he always like this?"  
"Always," Michael answered, not considering the times it would be a lie. Because he didn't want to think of that. Today was for him and his team to work on some cases. He'd be leaving base later, and he was hoping he could persuade Agent Black that she should drive - Michael hated it, and C.J. was basically lethal if allowed behind the wheel. He tended to give himself over to the universe, which was terrifying for those who happened to be sat beside him.

"I'm just excited!" C.J. answered. "It's a Wednesday which means that it's the furthest possible day from any testing, and we've got a case. Michael and I have been working together for months and we've never been allowed supervision other than Mister Priest, and he's the worst. No matter what you're like you'll be better than him."  
Michael sighed slightly. He knew C.J.'s relationship with the man went back further than he wanted to say, and whilst Riggins and the new Technical Officer Adams had managed to reign in a lot of Priest's more violent impulses around C.J., he'd still seen what would happen if the ex-subject got out of hand.

"As a magnanimous gesture of good will, Agent Black," C.J. continued. "I've decided that you can pick the music, _and_ that I will take over your driving shifts for this particular mission."  
"No!" Michael interrupted, nearly spilling his coffee down himself. "Ceej, we really don't need you driving."  
"I'm happy to drive," Agent Black said quickly, and that seemed to satisfy C.J.. Michael wondered if she'd been briefed on his driving, or if she just had the sense to realise he shouldn't be allowed behind the wheel of a car.

"When are wheels up?" C.J. asked, placing his empty cup down on top of one of Agent Black's neatly completed forms. She snatched it up, glaring at the coffee stain.  
"Wheels up is for planes, Agent Cjelli."

C.J. glared at her, then huffed over to his desk.  
"He prefers C.J.," Michael reminded her gently, hoping that this wouldn't be another case of someone who viewed C.J. as a subject.  
"Sorry," Agent Black answered. "I just... I have to redo this form."  
"Sorry," C.J. mumbled as he fiddled with the Legos on his desk. He glanced at the two of them.  
"Michael, be a dear and visit Lamia with me while Agent Black does her forms?"  
"You know you can borrow my card any time," Michael agreed, picking up his swipe card and heading to the door, a little concerned that C.J. might have ruined the paperwork deliberately. 

Michael didn't particularly like going with C.J. to see Lamia, but he knew how important it was to him, and so he did it. It was just that when C.J. and Lamia were together, it was an obvious reminder of C.J.'s status, of the fact he was one mistake away from ending up back in a cell of his own.

"Just so you know, she's not been doing particularly well..." he warned C.J. as they walked along. Lamia was a difficult case, seen as a flight risk. Normally she was trapped inside an airtight glass box, and she tended to be in a human form, because that way she was more likely to earn visits from C.J. Currently, she was sulking.

"I know, and I'm sorry." C.J. sighed. "I have wanted to visit her, it's just that I've been busy with our cases and with tests..." He practically ran the last corridor to Lamia's room, and Michael followed close behind, unlocking the door and signalling to the armed guards that everything was alright.

C.J. bounded in, laughing slightly as he saw that the bottom of Lamia's cage was full of foul-smelling grey-brown sludge. He tapped on the glass, a quick pattern that the audio recorders in the room would have made a copy of, and the sludge disappeared. In its place there was a woman a few years younger than C.J., who was smiling shyly at him.   
"You came back!" she said, twisting the hem of her pale night dress between her fingers. "I missed you. Mister Priest said you wouldn't come back because we weren't friends anymore." She pressed one hand against the glass, the other fiddling with her dress. "Do I have to stay in the box?"

"I'm sorry." C.J. nodded, resting his hand against the glass, the closest he could get to touching her. "I can't get you out of the box today, they said you weren't trying on your experiments."  
"They said you wouldn't come back!" Lamia protested, and Michael turned away, not wanting to see the anguish on C.J.'s face. He could still hear what was said.  
"I'm always going to come and see you Lamia, we're friends..." C.J. promised, and then smiled sadly. "And we're going away for a few days, but maybe if you try really hard on your testing we can have a sleepover when I get back."

"I'd like that," Lamia answered.  
"Me too." C.J. was still pressing his hand against the glass, and Michael bit his lip. He hated how young C.J. sounded when he spoke to Lamia. C.J. was older than Michael, but at times he could act like a child.

Michael crossed his arms, and tried not to think about the first time he'd seen Lamia and C.J. interact. It had been after an argument, when C.J. had been furious, and had still had to ask Michael to let him in. Michael had almost said no, and he hated that part of himself, hated the voice inside himself which told him that C.J. was a project.

_It had taken a lot of courage for Michael to ask C.J. out. He'd been working with the man for a week and a half when he had done it, and C.J. had been the best part of working for Blackwing. He'd gathered up all his strength, and sat beside C.J. in the rec room.  
"Ceej, do you want to go for a beer later?"  
"Oh, I can't," C.J. had replied, a little flustered.   
"Another day?"  
"I won't be able to," C.J. had said more firmly, his voice directed at the table. Michael had worried that he'd read the signals wrong, that he'd assumed that C.J. was flirting. But C.J. had been.  
"What do you mean?"  
"I mean I'm not allowed off base without supervision."_

_"What?" Michael had asked, and he was ashamed to look back on the anger he'd felt then.  
"I'm a project."  
"You're..." and then everything had fallen into place. Mister Priest saying he'd sort Cjelli out if he was a problem. The way that C.J. was always at work before Michael arrived, and always stayed late. The scars he'd caught glimpses of, and the way that C.J. struggled to talk to people. "You never said."_

_"Well, you never told me you weren't a project," C.J. had argued, and Michael had felt annoyed with him for leading him on, for keeping it from him.  
"You should have told me."  
"Just dropped it into conversation should I?" C.J. snarled. "Hi, I'm your partner and actually I'm an experiment? Or would you rather that I wore a name badge? Start every conversation with it? Or perhaps I should work in my old jumpsuit?" _

_Michael should have backed down, and apologised. But he'd been furious then, at C.J. trying to claim that he was the wronged party here when he'd humiliated Michael. Michael had almost yelled his next words.  
"You made me a laughing stock, Ceej. You let me think you were available-"  
"What, like some special offer at the supermarket?" C.J. spat. "Oh it must be so horrible for you, people are laughing because you liked something that isn't a person." He had glared at him, and there had been tears threatening in C.J.'s eyes. It was that that made Michael realise too late that he was addressing this wrong. But the hurt had already happened._

_"I'm sorry." He was sorry. He'd gone too far. C.J. should have said, but he didn't need to yell at him.  
"I want to see project Lamia," C.J. had whispered, his arms around himself. "Assuming that you don't mind, Sir." He'd spat that last word, and Michael had almost refused, because he'd been hurting and angry. _

_But he'd realised that if he ever wanted to rebuild what had been between them, he had to say yes. And he'd wordlessly walked away towards Lamia's room, C.J. following close behind._

"I want to go outside," Lamia murmured, and C.J. nodded.  
"I know sweetie, but you can't. I'll bring back some presents okay? Maybe some leaves, or a pretty rock."  
"I'd like a pinecone. They're pretty."  
"I'll get you a pinecone," he promised. "I've got to go now, I can't be late."  
"You'll come back?" Lamia asked, and Michael wasn't sure if he was upset with her or with Blackwing.  
"Always," C.J. promised, then walked away without turning back, smiling at Michael. "Thank you."  
"Any time," Michael answered, smiling back. He liked being able to make C.J. look happy, even if he disliked the reminders that Lamia entailed. "A pinecone huh?"  
"She likes fractal patterns," C.J. explained softly. "They're soothing."

Michael nodded, reaching out and gently squeezing C.J.'s arm, not knowing what he could say to that. He never did know when it was things like that. C.J.'s smile seemed a bit less certain this time, but they reached the office and he headed straight to Agent Black's desk.  
"I'm sorry about your paperwork, Ma'am."  
"It's fine, C.J. Sorry about the name."  
"It's alright. I just... I tend only to get called that when I'm in trouble," C.J. explained, and he laughed. Michael tried not to think about visits to Medical, of seeing C.J. lying there surrounded by wires and looking pale, almost grey. C.J. was fiddling with his left hand over his right wrist, and even though he couldn't see it Michael could picture the scar there, caused when they'd had to go in and repair a bad break. 

He cleared his throat, and C.J. jumped slightly before laughing.  
"Yes?"  
"Got everything?" he asked, glancing at the bag C.J. had left in the corner that morning.  
"Think so," C.J. answered, and Michael nodded.  
"Want me to come along to the briefing?"

"You both can?" C.J. shrugged. "Should just be the Colonel there so..." His voice trailed off as he began to search through a pile of papers, muttering to himself as he did so.  
Agent Black glanced at Michael curiously, frowning a little as C.J. disappeared under a flurry of forms.  
"He's always like this," Michael confirmed, then reached over to the pile beside C.J. and grabbed a page.  
"Is it this one?"

C.J. nodded, grinning at him.  
"Excellent assisting, Michael."


	2. Chapter 2

C.J. stared down at the form that Michael had retrieved for him, double checking that he had the key details right. It was a privilege, to be out in the world working cases, and he wanted to prove that it was one he took seriously. That meant being able to explain what he was meant to do and why. It couldn't all just be flirting with Michael and getting Lamia presents, he had a job to do.

Michael rang through to check that the Colonel was available, and when he got confirmation that he was, C.J. let the three of them across to the man's office. He knocked on the door, standing to attention as he waited to be called inside. When he was allowed in to find it was only the Colonel there he flashed a smile at him, not missing the fond expression the Colonel gave him in return.  
"Well Svlad?"  
"I'm ready, and I believe Agent Black will be a great advantage to our team. The potential recruit we are investigating is a nine year old female. Agent Black will be much less intimidating for her than Mister Priest and therefore far less likely to contaminate our results."

"Good to know. And you understand what the mission entails?"  
"I am to listen to her and assess whether or not she has potential for Blackwing," C.J. answered. He was hoping not. It didn't seem like she was particularly dangerous - she apparently could talk to animals. Of course, most people could talk to animals, but she could talk to them and be understood, and understand in return - if the rumours were to be believed. Even though C.J. knew that the rumours would be true, he couldn't help wondering if they would be wrong this time. Her ability could be weaponised - any ability could - but she wasn't a risk, and would hopefully be better suited to extended observation rather than actually bringing her into the base.

The Colonel's expression was severe, and C.J. found himself wondering again whether the older man could somehow read his mind.   
"Ideally I am to make contact. There have also been some unusual power outages in the next town over, which we are to investigate in case they are connected to her, or to another person of interest."

"Well done Svlad." The older man smiled, and C.J. breathed out a sigh of relief. He'd passed that particular test. "I expect reports twice daily, and Agent Black and Lieutenant Assistent will be informing me if anything goes wrong."  
"Yes sir," C.J. answered, then left the room, embracing Michael as soon as the door closed. Michael laughed softly, hugging him back for a moment before pulling away.  
"I thought you didn't want him to know," Michael reminded him, and C.J. shrugged.  
"He's not made us stop working together yet, and anyway I like hugs. Agent Black, may I hug you?" 

C.J. held out his arms, and did his best puppy dog eyes until she nodded her permission, at which point he embraced her tightly. After a few seconds she pulled away.  
"We need to hit the road."  
C.J. practically skipped back to the office, grabbing his bag and heading to the car.

***

Leaving base always thrilled him. He'd been running missions for nearly four years now, and every time he was in the backseat of a car driving away from Blackwing he felt like he was soaring. He couldn't turn into a bird like Lamia, but it felt almost like that. He didn't push his face against the window, the way he'd used to, because Michael had said he'd looked like a dog wanting to go to the park, and C.J. didn't want to embarrass him. It was just that for fourteen years he hadn't been allowed outside, and now he was. He 'accidentally' bumped the button for the window, opening it slightly and inhaling air that hadn't been recycled.

"You can open the window," Agent Black said from the driver’s seat, flashing him a smile in the mirror. "Good to breathe fresh air."  
Permission granted, C.J. opened the window fully. He could hear Michael and Agent Black discussing things in the front seat, but he wasn't particularly interested, not when he could look at the world outside. There were strange rock formations in the distance, rising out of the parched landscape, and they were heading towards Montana, so it would be a long drive. They'd be near the Shoshone National Park judging by the map, so he could only hope he'd be able to get Lamia her present. He paused, grabbing the file and using the pen to write "PINECONE!" on the back of his hand, adding a smiley face. He wished that Lamia could come on the trip with him. Still, he could have an adventure, and come back to tell her all about it.

The Colonel tended to be fairly indulgent if his cases went well, so he hoped he would be able to persuade the man to let him have a sleepover with her. He'd have to tell her all about where they went. 

He listened to the radio, even if he didn't recognise the songs, and when they stopped for coffee he got out with the others - Mister Priest might have thought that C.J. was stupid enough to try and run off in the middle of nowhere, but Michael knew that he wouldn't. Agent Black smiled at him, so he felt pretty sure she knew as well. 

"Hey, C.J..." she asked, as she rifled through the various packets of candy. "You want to help me pick? Michael, can you grab some water and put it in the car?" Michael did as she asked, and C.J. stood beside her, watching the way she fidgeted with the packets of sweets, and trying to work out what it was that was bothering her.

"Look, C.J., we didn't get off on the best start."  
"You brought me tea," he pointed out, and she laughed slightly.  
"I did, well, we can get more tea. I just wanted to say that I've... I read your file, and it's amazing to work with you. Your success are..."  
"Just what happens," C.J. mumbled. "I mean, it's not like I do anything. I'm more somewhere and stuff does itself around me."

"Not from what I've read," Agent Black answered, leaning in and embracing him slightly awkwardly. "I've been... pretty impressed. You've been with Blackwing for a while?"  
"Eighteen years, ma'am. I was recruited at eight. Been running missions for the past four years."

Agent Black's face did something C.J. couldn't quite identify. Normally that was a sign of danger, but Agent Black didn't scare him. She nodded after a moment.   
"You're doing very well. And I think you play more of a role than you realise."  
"Thank you," C.J. answered, before getting thoroughly distracted by the sweets. He almost didn't register that she was still talking until her arm brushed against his.

"Look, C.J.," her face was doing a really quite strange expression, as though she was trying to smile and had forgotten how. "I just... wanted to check what we should do when we get there about hotel rooms." She paused, seeming to realise she was losing him to the candy again. C.J. shrugged - logistics weren't his department. He was there to work cases, not worry about room costs. As long as he wasn't left unsupervised overnight everything was fine. He frowned, trying to decide between sherbet lemons or toffees. She rested her hand over the sweets, and he looked up at her. Now she looked almost worried. "I just... if you'd rather we all share, or have a room with me, I can arrange that." 

C.J. smiled at her honestly. "It's okay. I like sharing with Michael."  
"If you didn't-" she started, and C.J. felt the penny finally drop, his face heating up in embarrassment.   
"No, it's fine, I like it. Thank you but..." He paused, and then cleared his throat. "Michael and I aren't... doing anything yet. Cameras." He was sure his ears were bright red. "Um. Anyway. So candy-wise I think we should get one of everything. I'm going to see if Michael needs help with the drinks."

He raced off, and ended up hiding in the back of the car until Agent Black returned with tea for him, and some sherbet lemons. He managed to smile, even if he still felt embarrassed.   
"Thanks for asking," he muttered.  
"Any time." She grinned, throwing most of the food in the trunk, as Michael returned with coffee for the two of them.

"Do I need to worry about you two conspiring?" he asked.  
"Oh, definitely," C.J. agreed, tearing open the packet of sherbet lemons and handing them around.

***

They'd finished the sherbet lemons by the time the car stopped for the night - they weren't there yet, but apparently Agent Black was reaching the maximum allowed hours to drive, and Michael didn't want to drive. C.J. considered offering, but after their earlier reactions he stayed quiet. Anyway, it was getting dark and the motel they were staying at looked fairly good. He wondered if it would have a coffee machine in the foyer - or lobby, as Michael called it. He wouldn't normally leave his room at night - if he wasn't sharing with Mister Priest he certainly didn't want to risk running into him in the corridor - but suspected that Agent Black would be more sympathetic towards early morning caffeine requirements.

He helped carry his bag into the room he was sharing with Michael, taking the bed by the window so that Michael could take the one by the door and ensure no late night attempts at running away. He wasn't planning on running away, and they both knew it, but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially when some of their stuff might be bugged. Michael was busy unpacking various hair care products in their en-suite, so C.J. unpacked his clothing, hanging it up carefully. He wondered who had prepared the bag for him - there was a lot of colour in the outfits for this mission, which was good. His uniform at Blackwing was a million times better than his old jumpsuit, but still rather drab. He would have to remember to leave a thank you note in the bag when he returned it on base.

Michael started shoving things into various drawers, and C.J. sat down on the end of his own bed, whooping as he pulled out a book from the bottom of the pack. _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ was definitely meant to be a parable about the harms of living an indulgent life, especially for someone with his predilections. But C.J. knew about the author, and couldn't help seeing someone snatching back control from a world which imprisoned them.

He was thumbing through his favourite part, with Basil confronting Dorian, when there was a knock on the door and Agent Black stuck her head around the door.  
"Pizza party in my room?"  
C.J. jumped off the bed, book discarded in an instant as he rushed through, letting Michael worry about locking up. The three of them sat on Agent Black's double bed, pouring over the case notes, C.J. pointing out ideas as they occurred to him. Michael scribbled down what he could. It was almost midnight before C.J. used Agent Black's phone to call in a report. He had nothing of interest to share, but he suspected the Colonel just wanted confirmation he hadn't ran off. He passed the phone back to Agent Black when he was finished, heading to his own room to shower.

***

C.J. washed slowly, taking the opportunity to examine himself in the bathroom mirror, eyes drawn to marks from when he was still a project. He didn't like his scars. He knew Mister Priest had a lot of scars and didn't mind them, but they bothered him more than they should. He sighed, leaning under the spray and trying to chase away his melancholy mood. He was on a trip with Michael and a new friend. There was no Mister Priest, no Blackwing. There was nothing to worry about, and rather than enjoying his freedom he was fretting. He pushed those thoughts aside.

When he emerged from the shower, towel around his waist, Michael was flicking through one of those ridiculous tabloids full of stories of alien abduction and ghost possession. It took C.J. a moment to realise that Michael must have bought it at the gas station.

Michael's eyes flicked up when he closed the bathroom door, then quickly turned back to the page. C.J. cleared his throat, and Michael looked up again, a lot more hesitantly.  
"Everything alright there Ceej?"

"Am I pretty?" C.J. asked with a coy smile. He tried to turn slightly, angling his body so that the worst of the scars wasn't visible from where Michael was sitting.   
"You're beautiful Ceej," Michael answered, and he said it so truthfully that C.J. couldn't help believing him. He pulled on his clothes, ignoring the voice in his head that sounded like the Colonel, telling him that he was silly and vain. Once he was wearing some soft blue pyjamas, he moved to sit on Michael's bed.  
"Can we cuddle for a little while?"

Michael put his magazine aside, holding his arms out so that C.J. could tuck himself against Michael's chest. He allowed himself a few minutes there before he reluctantly returned to his own bed.

The next morning, the alarm sounded far too early, and he got ready for another few hours of sitting in a car before the real excitement began.

Agent Black raised her eyebrows at them as they clambered into the car.  
"You took a while."  
"I was just sorting out my hair," C.J. protested, and Michael shrugged.   
"He tends to be fussy in the mornings." 

C.J. stuck his tongue out in response, because he didn't know what else he could say in response to that. It was alright though - he was wearing his own clothes, and Michael was only teasing him. Michael only ever made comments like that that wouldn't upset him, he wasn't like some of the people C.J. knew, and anyway C.J. knew that he had spent too long looking at himself in the mirror that morning, lost and overwhelmed by the amount of colour he was wearing.

He wished the Colonel would take on board his suggestion to allow more colourful shirts as part of Blackwing's uniform. If it was up to him, he would have worn bright colours every single day - but he'd suggested it once, and the Colonel had just raised an eyebrow at him and said 'if you'd rather have your jumpsuit back you can'. C.J. hadn't mentioned the idea of colourful clothes any more, because he didn't want the Colonel to think that he wasn't grateful for what he had, and he did look very smart in the Blackwing uniform, so he didn't really have any reason to complain. 

"C.J.?" Agent Black asked from the front seat, and from her tone she'd been asking it several times already. C.J. smiled slightly that she was still using his name, even though she was annoyed at him. He liked that.   
"Yes?"  
"Do you want to direct us? It seems to really be your speciality." 

C.J. paused then shrugged and nodded, leaning forwards between the front two seats. The countryside drifted past him, with nothing in particular jumping out, and he was beginning to lose interest when he saw a sign for the Shoshone National Park. Technically, he didn't have a hunch telling him to go there, but he did want to go there, which was kind of like having a hunch.  
"I think we should go the way on that sign." C.J. spoke as decisively as possible, and Agent Black followed his directions. She didn't question it, which was nice in its own way. It was fun to get to direct someone and not have your every word or thought doubted - it was much more peaceful than travelling with Mister Priest, who would almost certainly be already asking whether or not he was just making up directions to get what he wanted.

The three of them stopped in the park and had lunch, and C.J. was able to grab a pinecone. After they had eaten he suggested that they could leave again, taking the pinecone with him and stashing it away in the footwell of the car. That way he could bring it to Lamia when he got home. He smiled, and the other two smiled back. He was pretty sure that they both knew exactly what it was that he had done, but for some reason it didn't matter with them. They didn't make a fuss about it the way that some people did, didn't try and use his attempts at grasping freedom against him. 

"We should go to the other town first," C.J. told them as the car started up again, a nagging feeling in his stomach dragging him that way. "There's something important there."  
Michael shrugged, and Agent Black headed off towards the town of Bergsberg. C.J. couldn't tell what was important there, just that something was. He directed them along various roads, until he reached a boat, which someone had left in the middle of a field. C.J. knew that his experience with the outside world was minimal, but he was also aware that a field was definitely not the most normal place to leave a boat, and that made him suspect that something was wrong. 

He tensed as a car drove up, and a man in uniform got out.  
"Be careful over there," he called out to the three of them. "Someone fell off there the other day, it isn't safe to be climbing on."  
"We aren't planning to climb on it, Sheriff," Agent Black answered with a smile, and C.J. could see the man relaxing. He was still walking up towards them though.

C.J. had spent most of his life trying to prove to Blackwing that he wasn't a threat, that he would never try and escape or run away. But seeing this man, he had a sudden urge to run towards him. It wasn't like a normal universe hint, it was stronger than that, and before he could even consider it his feet were moving him forwards and he raced to the man. The man was fumbling for his weapon but C.J. was already on him, and he shoved him to the ground. A moment later something big, with wings and teeth, soared through the air, skimming the surface of where the man had been standing a moment before. It vanished a few seconds later.  
"What was that?" the man muttered.

C.J. knew that the answer was in the boat, but he was sure that if he looked, he was going to get this man killed. He had a choice, something the universe didn't often give him. Help the man, or complete this half of the mission. The Colonel would be angry if he came home unable to explain it. If he hadn't even looked.  
"Nothing. Now, if you'll excuse me, the three of us have to be on our way." He pulled away, grabbing Michael's hand and hurrying him back to the car. 

Agent Black climbed into the driving seat and revved the engine, speeding away.C.J. felt grateful to her. There was silence in the car for a few moments, before Michael spoke.  
"C.J.? What the fuck was that?"  
"I don't know," C.J. answered. "It ... shouldn't have been there. But that's... we need to go and complete our mission in Rawhide. We aren't going back there."  
"C.J.," Michael pleaded. "Something happened there."  
"It doesn't matter. We're here to make initial contact with that girl as a potential project. This was just… it doesn't matter. We were looking at the power outages. You've seen the electricity cables, they just need replacing. That's all." C.J. tried to rationalise it. He knew his voice was shaking, but he didn't know how to stop it.

Michael sighed softly, resting his hand on C.J.'s shoulder, and squeezing gently.  
"I'm going to have to tell them what happened."  
C.J. slumped slightly in his seat but nodded.  
"I know."

It wasn't that Michael wanted him hurt. Just that the car was bugged.

The two of them cuddled up in the backseat until they reached Rawhide, and then C.J. got on with the mission. The girl that he had been sent up to meet, Lilac Hale, was a lovely nine year old who was interested in ponies and dolphins. She could talk to animals, but C.J. quickly uncovered that most of what the animals told her wouldn't be useful - they would share the messages that were important to animals, not to humans. That was a relief, at least. Her parents were happy to make contact with people that could help, and C.J. was more confident than before that she would be allowed to stay under extended observation.

They stayed in town for a couple of days, and C.J. ate all kinds of different junk food. He reported to the Colonel about the progress that had been made, and tried to ignore the disappointment he could hear in the older man's voice as he explained. Lilac's powers not being immediately useful was a failure, and so was the fact he hadn't found out what that _thing_ was in the field. On their last evening before heading back, he sat on the edge of Agent Black's bed, as Michael went shopping for food. She smiled over at him from where she was reading.

"Ceej, are you alright?"  
"Just nervous," C.J. answered, sighing slightly and closing his eyes. "I failed."  
"You didn't fail!" She sounded shocked, putting the book aside and making her way over to him. She crouched down in front of him, reaching out and holding his hands.  
"You made that little girl trust you. She is going to need more support as time goes on, and you're helping her."  
C.J. wondered if Agent Black really believed that Blackwing was acting for the best interests of people like them. He supposed it didn't matter - she was kind, and he wasn't going to ignore kindness when it was offered to him.  
"I don't think the Colonel is going to see that way," he admitted.

Her face did the funny thing again, where C.J. couldn't work out if she was sad or angry. But then she reached out and wrapped her arms around him. It was nice to be hugged. Then Michael was back, and he hugged them as well. It was very good, to hold them both. He could almost forget his concerns.  
"Shall we stay up and watch movies tonight?" Agent Black suggested, and C.J. smiled. The three of them settled down on her bed, and she turned on the television. He tried to remember it all, how happy he felt.

C.J. slept most of the journey back to Blackwing. Michael's arms were around him, and the radio was playing.   
"Michael?" C.J. was speaking at just a whisper, hoping the radio would drown his voice out. Agent Black turned the music up louder, and he knew she was trying to help.  
"Yes Ceej?"  
"You'll give Lamia the pinecone won't you?"  
"Of course," Michael promised, and C.J. smiled a little. He was relieved that he hadn't failed Lamia as well. He might not be able to get the sleepover, but he had at least not disappointed Lamia completely. 

He watched as the sun set, the landscape around them growing more familiar. He regretted that. He'd been happy to leave, but as they returned he didn't want to see the world around him. 

He wondered when he'd next get out.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael was relieved that Priest wasn't waiting to greet them as they parked. He hated the way the man always made C.J. upset, with the younger agent curling up on himself the moment he saw the older agent. Not being on a mission with him had been a welcome change - Agent Black seemed to bring out the best in C.J., and he'd been happier than he had been for a long while. Michael wanted to keep that happiness.

He knew it wouldn't work that way, it never did. They were already back in base, and from what Colonel Riggins had said on the phone, C.J.'s behaviour was yet again considered unacceptable. Michael tried not to think about that, patting C.J.'s hair, stroking his fingers through it for a few more seconds before he leaned in, speaking gently.  
"Ceej, we're home, come on..."

C.J. groaned, stretching - one flailing arm nearly hitting Michael in the chin. He dodged with well practiced ease. The car was parked, and Agent Black opened the door for them.  
"What now?" she asked Michael.  
"No welcoming committee. Have you finished your report? If not, maybe C.J. and I can take the time to go give Lamia her pinecone."

"I can do that," Agent Black agreed, understanding passing between the two of them. She was on their side, and that helped. 

C.J.'s entire face had lit up at the mention of seeing the project, and he was bouncing up and down slightly where he stood. He was still wearing his favourite t-shirt from the suitcase he had been given.  
"Can we go now?"  
"Ceej," Michael reminded as gently as he could. "You need to get changed."

C.J. huffed dramatically but did so, stripping down to his underwear in the middle of the parking lot before pulling back on his agent uniform.  
"Better?"  
"I don't want you in trouble Ceej," Michael said, as gently as he could. He knew this topic hurt C.J., how C.J. tried to pretend he wasn't trapped. It had nearly killed the feelings between them at the first moment, and even now it posed a problem, C.J. putting his pride before his safety. 

Luckily, after changing C.J. had picked up his pinecone, and that seemed to brighten his mood considerably.  
"Lamia, here we come!" He grinned at Agent Black. "You're coming, aren't you?"

Agent Black frowned for a moment, looking around, and then shrugging.  
"You do realise I can't do the paperwork and see Lamia?"  
"Well then the paperwork will take longer." C.J. argued, attempting to use logic. Agent Black smiled fondly at him.  
"I'll just say hi, then get on with my work."  
C.J. embraced her, and Michael tried to ignore the slight jealousy that tugged in his chest. C.J. deserved friends, and he was glad for him. He liked Agent Black too. It just felt strange to share C.J. with anyone, at least anyone outside of a glass box.

He pushed aside the resentment that threatened when he saw Lamia - she was human again, and pressed against the glass as soon as she saw C.J., who rushed to her side. His hands pressed against the glass as well, his hands mirroring hers.  
"You came back!" she said, a bright smile on her face - it was clear that this time, she hadn't worried.  
"Always will," C.J. answered. "How've you been?"  
"Tests were booooring," she told him, in a sing-song voice. "I went down to the big room and they had me turn into different things. Then they got mad at me because I didn't know what a thrax was."  
"Thrax?" C.J. frowned. "I don't know what that is either."  
"Apparently it's like a little mushroom?" She shrugged. "But I'm going to get some new books to read, which is exciting."

Michael glanced over at Agent Black, who didn't look pleased. He sighed, wishing that Lamia wasn't telling C.J. this stuff. C.J. acted dumb, a lot of the time, but he wouldn't take well to finding out how Lamia was being turned into a weapon. C.J. grinned.  
"We saw mushrooms! We went out to the forest, and there were big trees, bigger than the ceiling in the big room. And there were mountains!"  
"I'd like to try being a mountain one day," Lamia murmured, more to herself than anything. C.J. smiled.  
"Well, don't squish me okay? I like being not-squished."  
"Okay," she smiled at him. "I can do that!"  
"Thank you." C.J. leaned his forehead against the glass for a moment, then stuck his hand in the pocket of his uniform.  
"I picked you up this." He twirled the pinecone around, showing her it from all angles. Her face was sparkling with joy.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. C.J. looked proud of himself, standing there holding a pinecone in front of a prisoner in a glass cage. Michael wanted to tell him he'd done well, to embrace him, but he didn't want to interrupt.

"C.J.," Agent Black reminded. "I need to go and do my forms, did you want to introduce me first?"  
"Oh! Of course. Sorry, I got distracted. Lamia, this is Agent Black, she used to work in retrieval but she's with us now. She's very nice and bought me a lot of different foods. Agent Black, this is Lamia. We've known each other for sixteen years, and she is my best friend in the entire world."  
"Good to meet you Lamia," Agent Black said with a fond smile, before pulling back a little. "I really should go and get on with my forms."  
"How long do you think it'll take?" C.J. asked, and Michael could hear the hope in his voice.

"An hour or so?" Agent Black said, and Michael relaxed a little. An hour with Lamia was more time than C.J. normally got, and given that he was bound to be in trouble when the reports were in, Michael wanted to give him this. He moved back away from Lamia's cage, reaching into his bag to pull out one of his conspiracy novels. He sat down on the floor to read it, nodding at the guards.  
"He won't let her out. I can monitor them."

There was a brief discussion, and then the three of them were left alone. C.J. was lost in talking to Lamia, and Michael didn't distract him. He might not be able to give C.J. much, but he could give him this.

C.J. deserved the chance for whatever happiness he could find.

***

Michael tensed when his phone vibrated, checking it to see a message from the Colonel letting him know that he wanted to see them both.  
"Ceej, we've got to go," Michael murmured, and C.J. seemed to pout, his head down. He tapped on the glass one final time, and Lamia tapped back, before turning into a large rainbow coloured pinecone that rotated slowly. C.J. smiled, and Michael tried not to see the way the smile faltered when he turned his back to her. 

C.J. left the room with him, his shoulder bumping Michael's own. Michael understood - C.J. wanted to be held, but it was too risky for that. They reached the Colonel's office, and C.J. knocked.  
"Come in, Lieutenant Assistent, Agent Cjelli."  
C.J. walked in, his body language screaming hostility. Colonel Riggins sat forwards in his chair, looking at him in vague disgust.  
"Take a seat Svlad." He gestured in front of him, to an empty chair. Michael walked over to where Agent Black was waiting, her lips pressed together into a thin and angry line. He tried to tell her this was normal by smiling, but she ignored him. The two of them stood in silence when the door opened, and Priest walked in.

C.J. couldn't see the man from where he was sitting, but he still tensed as he walked in.  
"Project Icarus in trouble again boss?" Priest asked, leaning against C.J.'s chair and reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Adams said he was trying to sneak Lamia contraband."

Michael hid his anger, knowing how much C.J. fussed about his hair.  
"It was a gift," C.J. answered. "I didn't put it in with her, just showed it."

"I don't think that's the biggest problem at hand at the moment, do you Agent?" Colonel Riggins asked, and C.J. mutely shook his head. "I want you to explain your actions to me."

"I spoke to Lilac," C.J. mumbled. "Her results were… not promising. She was mostly dealing with territory disputes between neighbourhood cats. Both her parents and her seem open to further cooperation and contact, so that should make the future work with them simpler."

"Your failure on that part of the mission isn't the biggest issue," Colonel Riggins answered. "I want you to explain your actions within Bergsberg."  
"The cabling was old," C.J. muttered, and Michael could tell he wasn't convincing anyone.  
"Not the power cuts Svlad. Stop making this worse for yourself." Colonel Riggins spoke softly, but any fondness in his voice was undermined by the faint laughter which escaped Priest.

Michael could feel Agent Black tensing up beside him, and reached out, resting his hand against her wrist in an attempt to stop her lashing out. If she got angry, it was bound to be C.J. that was in trouble for it.

"I felt that I needed to remove the Sheriff from his location, which I did. An entity appeared and then vanished."  
"And you didn't feel that needed any further investigation?"  
"I had a hunch that there was nothing more which we could do," C.J. answered, and Colonel Riggins glared at him.

"Svlad, you know we are only allowing you to undertake this kind of work so that you can develop your abilities."  
"Yes sir."  
"Then why, when the opportunity presented itself for you to further your capabilities, did you choose not to act?"  
"It felt like it would be wrong, Sir," C.J. muttered, his body hunched in on itself.

"I should take you out of the field for this Icarus," the Colonel said with a sigh. C.J. whimpered, shaking his head and then sitting up smartly. Michael couldn't quite see his expression from where he was sitting, but he could hear the shaking breaths which meant he was crying. 

"Please," C.J. whispered, and Agent Black looked furious. Michael tried to keep her calm, knowing that they couldn't do much to change what was happening. He cleared his throat.  
"C.J-Cjelli did wonderful work with the potential test subject. I believe that he still has a lot more to offer," Michael explained, his heart racing. He didn't want to get in trouble, but C.J. needed him to stand up, to say something. 

Colonel Riggins seemed to consider his options, falling quiet for a few moments before answering.  
"I can't let you make a habit of this Svlad. You've got a lot of privileges now, and you know that the only way to keep those is if you actually do what you are meant to."  
"I know sir." C.J. was rocking slightly where he was sat now.

"For a start, you aren't seeing Lamia until I say otherwise. You're lucky I'm not putting you back in a cell," Colonel Riggins began, and C.J. crumpled. Michael felt his own insides twist with guilt and fear and anger, because he knew even though this wasn't his idea, he would have to enforce it, to hear C.J. beg to see her and tell him that they couldn't. C.J. never made things like this easy, would protest and beg and plead. Sometimes Michael felt angry at that, even though he knew it wasn't his fault.

"Now, Svlad, I want you to go and wait in the corridor outside while the grown ups decide on your punishment."  
"Yes sir." C.J.'s voice was not more than a whisper as he got up and walked out of the door, pulling it closed behind him. Agent Black was silently fuming, but Priest was smirking, throwing himself into the chair that C.J. had vacated. Michael approached the desk, Agent Black following a few moments later.  
"He didn't-" she began.

"Miss Black, if you aren't able to control your temper, then I will have to ask you to step outside as well," Colonel Riggins said, his voice dangerously calm. Luckily, after a few moments she seemed to calm, her hands in fists by her sides.   
"You could throw him back in a cell," Priest pointed out. "Put the fear in him that way."  
"No," Michael said quickly. Finding himself back in Blackwing as a prisoner was C.J.'s biggest fear. Michael couldn't let that happen. "I need him for the work we are doing. He's too valuable to lock away."

"What would you suggest?" Priest asked. "I mean, I'm sure you could come up with some things that wouldn't pass the Geneva convention, but something you feel comfortable mentioning in front of the Colonel." 

Agent Black tensed, turning and walking out of the room. She didn't want to hear it. Michael half-wished he could follow her.

Michael hesitated. He didn't want to hurt C.J., but knew that the longer the punishment lasted, the more distress it would cause him.  
"If you can't think of nothing," Priest said with a smirk. "I can just kick the shit out of him again."

"Well?" the Colonel asked impatiently. Michael's brain was racing. He knew how vain C.J. could be, how being left with scars and bruises bothered him, the way he would stand in front of a mirror and trace the marks Blackwing had left across him. He didn't want more of those to be caused.  
"Shock him?" he suggested. "It hurts him but it's minimally physically harmful. He could be back at work in the office the same day, with no physical injuries."

Priest laughed and shrugged at that.  
"Sounds good. I can do that."  
"Surely someone else-" Michael started, and Priest shook his head.  
"Little Svladdy's scared of me. It'll help him learn his lesson."

Michael swallowed down the sickness that threatened to sweep through him.  
"When?"  
"Mister Priest, if you could handle this now," Colonel Riggins answered. "Stick to the guidelines in his manual please, we don't want to incapacitate him."

"Can I watch?" Michael asked quickly. He didn't want to leave C.J. alone in a room with a man that had terrified him for almost two decades.  
"Doesn't bother me," Priest shrugged, and the Colonel nodded. Priest stood up, heading to the door, and Michael followed close behind. Priest grabbed C.J's arm and dragged him along the corridor towards an interrogation room.

Agent Black looked at Michael curiously.  
"What's happening?"  
"He's going to shock him," Michael answered, grabbing Agent Black before she went for her gun. "Look, the best thing you can do is get him some ice cream, I'll bring him by the office after. I'll keep an eye on them, make sure nothing goes too far."

"All of this is too far," she muttered, but she went back to their office, and Michael hurried along to the interrogation chamber before Priest got too far along in the process.

***

C.J.'s screams were still ringing in Michael's ears as he helped him up from the chair. Priest had wandered away when it was finished, telling Michael to make sure that the boss got their reports. C.J. cringed at Michael's touch, pulling away as best as he could while still restrained.  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and Michael shushed him gently, getting him to his feet.

"It's okay C.J. It's okay, it's over now..." he held C.J. for a minute, guiding C.J.'s head against his shoulder so that he could cry. C.J. was still damp from the water that had been thrown over him, and he was cold. Michael pressed a kiss to his forehead. "It's over, you did so well..." 

C.J.'s only response was a sob.  
"Come on, let's get you changed then go down to the office, there's ice cream, and then you can have a nap, okay?" Michael tried to cajole C.J. as he guided him along, the two of them eventually reaching C.J.'s room, using his keycard to unlock the door. Michael placed C.J. on the edge of the bed and pulled out a clean set of uniform.  
"Let's get you dry," he murmured gently, helping C.J. out of his wet clothes and pulling on the dry ones, because C.J.'s hands were still spasming too much to undo the buttons.

"Tha...thank you," C.J. whispered, and Michael kissed his forehead again.  
"It's alright sweetheart," he promised. "Agent Black's got ice cream. I just need you to sign a couple of forms when we get back, and then you can sleep okay?"  
C.J. nodded slowly, and Michael helped him along the corridor.

Agent Black greeted them with bowls of ice cream. She looked at C.J. in concern, but didn't say anything much, just talked about how raspberry ice cream was her favourite. C.J. nodded along in silence, his eyelids drooping a little. It was clear he was exhausted.

"Ceej, you have a nap."  
"Ice cream," C.J. mumbled, and Michael tried not to hear how his voice was hoarse from screaming. Instead, he smiled.   
"You can have more ice cream after the nap, okay?" He helped C.J. over to the beanbag they had in one corner of the room, something that Michael had bought on a whim and which was useful for times like this. C.J. settled down on the beanbag, and Michael placed a blanket over him tenderly. 

It was barely a moment before C.J. was asleep, and Agent Black pulled Michael to the far side of the office.  
"What the hell happened in there?"

"We decided that electrocution would be the best-"  
"You decided?" Agent Black hissed, and Michael flinched as he registered his mistake. He paused.   
"Priest was suggesting a beating. I felt I had to choose something that would minimise how badly he was hurt. You know how he gets about his appearance."  
"You're telling me that after a few days where you have been jealous that C.J. might possibly have another friend, you arrange for him to be tortured and there's nothing to it?"  
"There isn't." Michael swallowed. "I'm glad he has you as a friend, and I just wanted it over. This is better than something longer term."

"You think C.J. would see it like that?" Agent Black asked incredulously. "If you just went up and told him. ‘By the way, you got tortured because I decided that was best for you?’ You didn't even ask him."  
"He doesn't like discussing it-"  
"Oh gee, well I wonder why!" Agent Black stared at him in disgust. "You need to tell him that you decided that. That you decided to have him shocked, and to do so to keep him pretty for you-"  
"It wasn't for me," Michael hissed, trying not to make enough noise to wake C.J.  
"You didn't think about that at all? What you wanted? Because if seems to me this whole thing was about you, not about C.J."  
"I tried to think about what he'd want," Michael protested, feeling a little sick because he couldn't help wondering if she was right. Her gaze hardened and she turned away.

"You're going to tell him Michael," Agent Black said softly, her voice full of calm fury. "Because if you don't, I will." With that, she returned to C.J.'s side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Lourdes for excellent betaing, and for everyone who is commenting and encouraging me!

Agent Black was the one who was sat beside C.J. as he opened his eyes, which surprised him - he would normally have expected to find Michael there.  
"Hey Ceej," Agent Black smiled at him softly. "You feeling okay?"

C.J. stretched, his arms brushing the bean bag. He rolled his shoulders, testing to see what hurt. His body was sore, and he was still exhausted, still tired, but the worst of the pain had faded and his limbs were back fully under his own control.  
"Pretty good," he answered honestly. "Sorry about earlier."  
"Don't be sorry about that C.J., it wasn't your fault."

"Where's Michael?"  
"He just had to go and work out a couple of things, but he made me promise to offer you ice cream if you want some."   
"That'd be good," C.J. nodded, moving to sit up and looking at her curiously. "You... stayed."  
"Yeah, course I did. You're my friend." Agent Black shrugged a little, walking over to the freezer and grabbing a bowl of ice cream. She carried it back.

C.J. was delighted to see that there was strawberry sauce and chocolate sprinkles over the top of his snack.  
"Thank you."  
"Felt you needed it. About… what happened..."  
"I don't want to talk about it," C.J. said softly. "I messed up, I got punished. It's done now, mostly..." He swallowed, wrapping his arms around himself. "I miss Lamia, but hopefully next time things will go better, and I'm going to get to see her..." He tried to smile at her, but it didn't look like it was working. "I'll just have to work very hard, and earn her back."

"You shouldn't have to do that," she told him, tucking into her own bowl of ice cream, sitting down beside him so that their knees were brushing. "You shouldn't have to do any of this. Has anyone told you that?"  
"Michael's tried," C.J. whispered. "But it doesn't change anything. I agreed to join Blackwing, so I have to live with the consequences of that."  
"You were eight."

"I did what I had to do," C.J. answered. "I understood that this would be something difficult. That what I was agreeing to was permanent. This is all my fault, and they're just... trying to help me focus. That's what it's been for, always."  
"You believe that?" she asked, and C.J. couldn't answer. He just leaned against her a little, and she squeezed his shoulder. 

He was relieved when Michael walked back in, sitting on C.J.'s other side so that he was safely sandwiched in a hug. He liked being there. It felt like he was where he was meant to be. Like he was safe.

***

Michael seemed tense in the days after his punishment, but C.J. tried not to worry about that. It felt strange, sleeping back in his room - the room that had once been his cell. It was much nicer now. There were books on a shelf, and he had several blankets, and various clothes - there were his uniforms, but there were also pyjamas, and jackets for when it was cold, and t-shirts for when he was off duty. They weren't the colours he would have picked, but they were still his. They were privileges that he could easily lose. But he missed having Michael's company, the other man's arms around him as he slept.

He still felt guilty at times, for his deviancy. He knew that the Colonel was disappointed in him, even if he didn't acknowledge it, even if they tried to pretend that nothing was wrong. He put that guilt behind him, tried not to let it bother him, and normally he succeeded. But it hurt when Michael was acting strangely. Like there was something wrong with C.J. beyond his misbehaviour. He curled up under his sheets and tried not to worry.

Whatever it was that was bothering Michael, C.J. wanted to help him. He knew he couldn't just go out and ask him, there was too much risk they were being overheard. He would have to wait until the next mission before he could ask him.

He got dressed and headed into the office, tidying up a little before the others got there. He'd noticed that Agent Black appreciated it when things were tidy, that neatness kept her calm - not to mention the fact she smiled when everything was in its proper place. He liked the fact he could do something that would help her. He guessed that was part of what it was to be friends, and wished he could do something to help Michael as well. 

He was looking through various files, trying to find a case which jumped out and caught his interest when Agent Black arrived.  
"Hey C.J." she greeted him, and she smiled. He smiled back.  
"I uh, tidied up Michael's desk," he explained pointing out the neatly ordered piles of paper. "You're in... on time." He frowned slightly. Agent Black was normally at least fifteen minutes early to work, and today she was there on time. He knew she worried about being late. "Is everything alright?"  
"Yes," she nodded. "I was just checking on Project Lamia before work. She sends her best wishes and wanted you to know that she was alright." After a pause she nodded. "She is … alright. Misses you, but knows it isn't your fault, and I told her you're coming back."

"Thank you." C.J. felt relieved at that, glad that Lamia wasn't forgetting him. He didn't want to be forgotten, didn't want Lamia to think she had been replaced.   
"She's a really sweet girl," Agent Black said thoughtfully. "She still has your pinecone by the way."  
"Would you like some coffee?" C.J. asked, and went to make some for her. He handed it over. "Do you think you could see her again at some point?"  
"Definitely. I'll try and keep an eye on her."

C.J. grinned, then turned to greet Michael who had run in late as always, looking a little flustered.  
"Ceej, where's all my stuff?"  
C.J. made his way over to him, walking him through his new and improved desk layout. Judging by Michael's expression, he was less excited by this change than Agent Black was, but once he knew that everything was still there he seemed to be less bothered.

"Any luck on a new case?" he asked, and C.J. could hear the hope there. They needed to be out, doing things, but every time he'd looked in the past week there was nothing that called to him. He didn't want to risk feigning a case, not when he was already in trouble. If they went out and came back with no results, then the Colonel might make good on his threat to take C.J. out of the field permanently, and he couldn't face that.

For fourteen years he had promised himself that one day he'd be allowed outside. He'd be able to stand in the sunshine and breathe fresh air, feel raindrops on his skin and the soil beneath him. He'd managed to earn that now, and he couldn't face losing it. He could feel his chest getting tight with fear, sickness building inside of him, and then Michael's arms were around him. He opened his eyes and Michael was there, in front of him, looking at him fondly.

"It's okay C.J. Deep breaths. Follow me..." Michael kept demonstrating until C.J. managed to mirror his breathing, the spinning of the room slowing as he leaned against him. he took a few more deep breaths, before he risked glancing back up at the files.

One stood out.

He reached out towards it, his hands shaking. As he touched it a sense of calm spread through him, and he took a slow deep breath, trying to remember that sensation, to hang on to it for when things got hard. The universe wanted him to have this case.

He opened it, and frowned. It was barely inside of Blackwing's remit, a missing child. There were no hints of special powers there, or anything else like that. Just the child of a Patrick Spring, reclusive Billionaire, kidnapped. Her bodyguard had been found shot dead, and now Patrick Spring had been murdered in a particularly grisly way. The photographs included in the file made C.J. feel a little sick, thinking of times he'd seen Project Marzanna on her way back from a mission. He couldn't think about her now, couldn't worry about any of that.

"This one." He paused. "I've got to take this case." 

***

The days that followed were strange, even among C.J.'s usual experience of missions which tended to be rather unusual. The missing child was located, within the body of a corgi, and he and Michael temporarily got trapped in an overly complicated maze where they would have died if not for Agent Black pulling them both out after they collapsed from inhaling smoke. The girl got her body back, the mindswapping cultists were arrested, and the machine was destroyed.

C.J. had managed to persuade Agent Black to stay in the hotel one more night, rather than risk a long journey back, and the three of them had crowded into her room. The case had gone perfectly, and three pizzas were on the bed, a cartoon playing in the background. 

It took C.J. a few moments to realise that he was happy. Not just doing what was necessary to stay alive, not just smiling and waiting for the shoe to fall. He was actually happy, with Michael and Agent Black, and he'd done well. He knew in the morning they'd be heading back to Blackwing, but he let himself enjoy their company as long as it lasted, and ended up falling asleep between the two of them, Agent Black patting his hair as Michael held him close.

 

He woke up slowly the following morning, not wanting to move. He was comfortable, Michael holding him close still. He turned so that he was facing him, nuzzling against his shoulder.  
"I want to stay," he whispered, knowing that he was bad to say it, that he was going against his own agreement - he was here because he had chosen to be, Blackwing was where he belonged. He couldn't hurt anyone here. But it felt calm here.

"I know Ceej," Michael answered, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and then one to his nose. He giggled slightly, looking up at him. "But maybe you can see Lamia again now? You did so well here."  
"That'd be good," he agreed. Even though this felt nice, it was wrong to be selfish, to enjoy it when Lamia couldn't. Maybe he could have a sleepover with her again. They hadn't had one for months and he knew how much it meant to her to be able to be a teddy bear in his arms and not have to be afraid for a little while. He was having fun being free, but he didn't get to stay.

He packed up his bag without complaining, and pulled on a brightly coloured t-shirt for the journey. He made his way to the entrance of the hotel, getting glared at when he smiled by a particularly grumpy bellhop who looked vaguely familiar. He pushed the concerns aside.  
"What day is it?" he asked Farah when they were back in the car.

"Tuesday. But we won't be back until late, so you get out of experiments this week."  
"Thanks," he answered. He'd never told her that he hated the tests that he had to endure - she was more than capable of working that out herself, and she was always trying to find ways he could avoid them, like Michael did. He had two people who were looking out for him, who actually wanted him to be happy. It was strange, but he was so grateful to both of them for that. He settled into the car.

"You might still have to see Incubus," Michael muttered as the road went along. "There was talk about that before we left."  
"What about Succubus?" C.J. asked, aware that he was whining. It was just that Incubus feeding left him tired and disoriented, and while he knew they needed to eat he wanted to avoid being dinner. Especially given Project Succubus actually benefited from them feeding on her. 

"She's in solitary again," Agent Black contributed.  
"Again?" asked Michael, his arm around C.J.'s shoulder.   
"I met her when Priest brought her in. I like her, she's... confident," Agent Black said, picking her words carefully. "Says what she thinks."  
"That'd explain it then," C.J. muttered sullenly, and Michael laughed a little, nuzzling his nose into C.J.'s hair.   
"Maybe she'll be back with them by the time we're home," Agent Black said, but there was a lack of certainty in her voice. C.J. knew it was unlikely that he would get that lucky.

"What order do you want to do things?"  
"Paperwork, Incubus, then seeing the Colonel," C.J. answered after a few moments’ thought, managing a smile. "That way if I get a reward I don't need to worry about them taking any positive feelings."

"Okay," Agent Black agreed. "If it's alright with the two of you, I would like to go and see Lamia once we're back, I promised her that I'd let her know how you are."  
"Thank you," C.J. smiled. "Michael and I will start the final writing up. Please... tell her I send her a hug."  
"Of course," Agent Black answered, and C.J. smiled, wondering when it had become this easy, this natural. He could plan things, work out what he would enjoy, and he had people that were willing to help him make it into a reality. The constant fear that had been his companion for years was gone now, and instead there was hope.

He still was glad when they stopped for lunch, getting a vegetarian pizza. He couldn't bring himself to eat some meat from an animal that had grown up in a cage when he could choose what food he was eating. He ate his pizza, sipping a soda, relishing the chance to have what he wanted.

Agent Black was checking the map as she ate.  
"Does anyone want to go sightseeing on the way back? There's a route we can take that goes past the Boar's Tusk." She turned her phone around, showing the two of them a rock spire which was reaching up into the sky. It looked amazing, and C.J. immediately found himself wondering if Lamia would be able to turn into it.  
"That would be fun," C.J. said, and Michael grinned.  
"We could take a photograph of us in front of it," he said enthusiastically. C.J. laughed a little, never quite understanding why Michael liked taking so many photographs but wanting to encourage him.

Piling back in the car after lunch didn't feel quite as awful as a return normally did. They were going back to Blackwing, but thanks to Agent Black they were doing it on their own terms. They had had a success, and the trip wasn't over yet.

"You could stay in contact with that police officer," C.J. suggested. "Estevez? He liked you."  
Agent Black laughed from her front seat.  
"Ceej, I'm gay."  
"But you're a girl?" C.J. pointed out, trying to work that one out. "You are a girl that likes girls?"  
"I am a woman that likes women, yes," Agent Black answered.  
"Oh," C.J. shrugged. "You could be friends though."  
"Maybe Ceej. I've already got my hands full with you two." 

C.J. knew she was teasing. He felt himself relax.

They parked at a distance from the Boar's Tusk monument, staring up at it. Both Agent Black and Michael seemed amazed by the big lump of geography. C.J. didn't see anything particularly exciting about it, but he was just pleased to see the others look so happy. Michael managed to arrange the three of them so that he could take a photograph of them, with the Boar's Tusk in the background, and then he set that as the menu screen of his phone  
"The Colonel won't see that will he?" C.J. asked.  
"It only shows if the phone is unlocked." Michael explained, and C.J. felt himself relax a little. He didn't want to get in trouble for something as silly as a photograph that Michael had, not when everything was going well.

The sun was setting by the time they reached Blackwing but C.J. knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until everything was finished. It was still worth that brief diversion though, and he wondered if he would be able to get his own copy of that photograph, so that he could show it to Lamia. He was sure she'd be interested in the big rock, because it would give her a challenge.

Michael bumped shoulders with him, then squeezed his hand as the car drew into the garage. This time, Mister Priest was waiting there.  
"Agent Cjelli, Project Incubus will be glad you finally got home. They've missed you."

C.J. allowed the terror to flow through him. He hadn't seen Incubus for a while, so if they hadn't eaten since then they would be hungry. He let Priest guide him away. He'd work on the paperwork afterwards, and then he would be able to ask the Colonel about seeing Lamia.   
"Think they missed you, Svlad," Mister Priest said, as C.J. trailed after him along the corridors. He could almost feel his thoughts shutting down. When they were alone, he didn't feel like the Blackwing agent he was. He felt like a scared little boy who had seen his parents murdered by the man in front of him. He tried not to think about that. His hands were balled into fists at his side and he bit his lip to try not to cry.

He'd been having a nice day. He couldn't throw that away just because Project Incubus were hungry. He'd get this done, and then he'd carry on with his day. He didn't speak, letting Mister Priest's words flow through him - he didn't want to listen, but he also knew he had to be able to answer a question if asked. 

"What are you wearing Svlad? You know Colonel Riggins likes you to be in your uniform."  
"I'm sorry," Svlad whispered. He'd forgotten. He'd been stupid, he'd forgotten to change back and then Mister Priest had been there and everything was going badly. He was afraid and he was going to be in trouble.

He wondered if Agent Black was scared of Mister Priest. He thought Michael was, for all he tried to hide it, but Agent Black was different. She was brave, in a way that Svlad wasn't, that Svlad had never been.

They reached the door to Incubus's cell and the first barrier was opened.  
"Try and stay strong enough to crawl out Icarus, we don't want to have to bother with a rescue."  
"Yes sir," Svlad murmured, then shook his head, trying to concentrate. He was C.J. He was a Blackwing agent, and he had friends. He had a boyfriend. The first door slammed shut behind him, and for a few moments he found himself trapped between two metal walls. It made him more frightened, but he knew that was the point. If Blackwing were going to go to the bother of feeding Incubus, they had to make sure the food was up to it, was afraid enough they'd get a good meal.

The doors drew open, and he was faced with four snarling figures. The littlest one, the one that had arrived a couple of years after him and younger than he had been when he'd arrived, was at the back, the others protecting him until they assessed the threat, and even with his heart racing in his chest he was glad that the boy had that.

The leader stepped forwards, lips drawn back in disgust.  
"Icarus. Surprised you bothered to visit, wasn't too busy being that prick's lap dog."  
C.J. looked down. He'd learned from past experience that trying to argue with them when they were like this was a bad plan. He just had to keep his head down, let them yell and scream and hope they didn't hurt him, and it would all be over. It would all be over soon.

"Where is she?" another one asked.  
"We want Boss back."  
"She's been gone for 409 hours," the third contributed.  
"I don't know," C.J. mumbled, curling up a little, not sure if he was going to be struck. 

And then the world around him glowed blue, and darkness started to threaten.

He hadn't got the energy to stumble backwards, and one of them grabbed him as the world around him turned to black.

***

He woke up on the beanbag in their office. He kept his eyes closed for a few moments, hearing Agent Black pacing and muttering.  
"If they hadn't shoved him back through towards the doors-"  
"They did," Michael interrupted. "They made sure we could get him back. I'm not happy about it, you know that, but -"  
"But what?" Agent Black asked. "They left him alone with them. They're violent. They could have killed him."  
"They never have before," Michael answered.  
"But what if-"  
"I'm fine," C.J. murmured, trying to prop himself up, which was more effort than he would have expected. "Incubus hate me but they won't try and kill me. How long was I out?"  
"Almost an hour and a half," Michael answered, moving over and helping him sit up. He leaned against the touch. "We've done most of your paperwork, if you read over it, then we can go and see the Colonel and then you can sleep."  
"I was asleep."  
"Well then, you can get more sleep?" he suggested, and C.J. nodded.

"Agent Black?" C.J. called out, and she was at his side quickly. He met her eyes. "Thank you for caring."  
"It's okay C.J. You are a part of this team. We all care about you."  
"Thank you."

"You shouldn't have to deal with all of this."  
"I can pick my moves," he told her. It was an old excuse, one he'd said to Michael countless times before.  
"It's all just some game-" she protested, and he reached out, holding onto her arm and willing her to be quiet before they all got into trouble.

"Look, Agent Black, just because you know you're playing a game, doesn't mean you don't choose your moves." He tried to smile as he spoke, but her eyes were too sad for him to keep it up. 

Michael handed him some paperwork and a pen, and he read it over quickly, wanting to get it all right. Satisfied by what he saw, he signed his name.  
"When are we reporting?"  
"I'll let him know," Michael went to call ahead, and returned with a grin. "He said he can see us now, and he seems to be in a lot better mood than last time."   
"I need a proper shirt," C.J. reminded them, and Michael helped him get dressed.

Unable to stop himself hoping, he leaned against Michael as they walked down the corridor. If he was called on it, he could always say he was tired. He wanted to tell Lamia about what had happened - he wondered if she could be a kitten with the soul of a shark. Things like that which pushed the bounds of possibility always excited her, and he liked the idea of giving her a new game. He knocked on the door to the Colonel's office.

"Come in."  
He walked into the room, a smile on his face as he walked over to his chair, Agent Black and Michael following close behind him. Mister Priest was standing near the Colonel, but C.J. wasn't going to let that get to him. He was here because he had done well, and the smile on Riggins' face confirmed that.  
"Hello Svlad. It sounds like you did well,"  
"The time loop was closed, a dangerous group of cultists removed, souls returned to their right place-"  
"You couldn't bring us back that machine Svladdy?" Mister Priest asked. "I'm sure it would have come in very useful, let us properly unlock Lamia's powers if nothing else-"

C.J. felt a little sickened at that idea - of Mister Priest wearing his little sister's body, using her powers to commit terrible things. But he had made sure the machine was unusable. It wouldn't be happening. He shook his head.   
"I had to send it back to complete the loop. It was a fixed point."

The Colonel nodded, looking through the files with a look of consideration on his face. He hummed slightly.  
"Looks like a really good result, Svlad. You should be proud."  
"Thank you," C.J. mumbled, and then looked up, his eyes full of hope and excitement. He had done well, and that meant he got a reward.

"Is there anything in particular you would enjoy as a reward Svlad?" the Colonel asked. "A couple of days off perhaps, or some new books? You had said a while ago about a kitten but-"  
"No," C.J. shut that idea down. He was worried that a kitten would give Mister Priest another way to hurt him. 

"What then?"  
"I want to see Lamia," he said, with as much firmness as he dared. "You said that I'm not allowed contact until… until you said that I could, but I've worked hard and I got good results, so please-"  
"No," Colonel Riggins answered after a moment, and C.J. flinched. It hurt, having his dreams dashed. He had wanted to see her, had completed the case to see her, and now it was thrown away. "You can pick something else Svlad, but one good result doesn't earn her back."

C.J. stared at him in shock, only just able to remember not to argue. Arguing was bad, arguing was something done to cause trouble and he didn't want to cause trouble. He sighed.  
"Hurry up Svlad, we don't have time for you to waste."  
C.J. bit his lip, thinking. There was one option, but it was risky. He was fairly sure that if he did ask this, he would be punished, but there was a chance it might work. That it might get him time with Lamia.  
"I want some time off base sir." As the Colonel went to reply, he continued, "And I know I'll need an escort. I want it to be Michael."

He braced himself to be punished for that response, to be told that he was deviant, sick, that he could see Lamia but would never be allowed something like that. The Colonel's expression was severe, and Mister Priest looked astounded, as though he'd never imagined something like this could happen. That little Icarus would have the guts to ask for a weekend away with his partner. 

The Colonel was angry. He was preparing himself for punishment, for further threats, but then the Colonel sighed and stared at him.  
"I always tried to bring you up right Svlad."  
"I know," C.J. whispered, shrinking in on himself. "I just... I enjoyed... I like spending time with... with Michael, you know that Sir. If time off base is meant to be a reward, then it should be... time I would enjoy."  
"And you will remember not to even _mention_ Lamia until I feel you deserve to see her?"

C.J. nodded, trying to follow what had happened. Somehow this conversation had taken a turn he had not expected, and rather than seeing his sister he appeared to be going on holiday with Michael.

"Then yes. You and Michael can go off of base for three days, to the safehouse that is located three towns over. Michael will be given the address, and will be with you at all times. If you go missing, he and Agent Black will be held responsible, do you understand?"  
"Yes."  
"I expect the safehouse to be left in the same condition it is in when you arrive. Agents will be checking in on you at least once a day to ensure that you are there, and the normal surveillance systems at the safehouse will be activated. Do you have any questions?"  
"No sir. Thank you sir."

"Svlad, you've done well," the Colonel told him, and he smiled, reaching out to rest his hand over C.J.'s. "I always knew you would be a great asset to Blackwing one day. You may go to the clothing storeroom and pick out three days worth of clothes. Once I have checked the paperwork, then you can have seventy two hours off base. You are allowed to walk within a one hour radius of the property, and trips will be approved if notified in advance." He squeezed C.J.'s hands and then lifted his own hand away. "Well done C.J. Have a good time."

"Thank you." C.J. got to his feet, deciding to flee the room before the Colonel changed his mind. He headed back to the office he shared with the others, and it was Agent Black who embraced him first.  
"A vacation, Ceej! Now don't worry, I'll check on Lamia every day and I'll let her know you're working hard to see her again. I've applied for extra training so that I can qualify as a guard for her when we are between cases."  
"Thank you." C.J. smiled. "Just... let her know that I miss her?"  
"I will," she promised, before moving back so that C.J. could turn to Michael.  
"I... hope you don't mind."  
"Not at all," Michael answered. "It'll be good to spend time with you C.J. Now, you go and pack."

C.J. nodded, racing off to the store to try and pick out some brightly coloured clothes. Three days of freedom, and safe houses would have unrestricted books, and games, and a dozen other things that Blackwing agents could use if they were hiding out there. He knew some had computers that were unrestricted access, and even if that wasn't the case there would be a television and music. And Michael. That last thought made him pause, doing a happy little dance to himself before continuing to grab clothes. 

His final haul was seven t-shirts and a pair of jeans, two pairs of pyjamas, some black trousers and three days worth of underwear, alongside a warm looking green cardigan and a particularly pink jumper. He placed it all in his bag and hurried back to the office.

He paused in the door when he saw that Michael looked a little sad, his head bowed and arms around himself as Agent Black looked on. He cleared his throat, and both jumped to life in an instant, getting to their feet to greet him. He smiled and waved in response.

"All ready to go, C.J.?" Agent Black asked, and he nodded. She hugged him again, and then turned to Michael.  
"Remember what I said."  
"What did you say?"  
"That you deserved a good time and that he needs to be someone you can trust." There was something about Agent Black's answer that worried him but he tried not to worry about it, making his way with Michael to where the cars were waiting. He climbed into the front seat, his bag on his lap so that he knew where his clothes were.

Michael leaned in, brushing his lips against C.J.'s cheek, and then they were off, driving along the road under a brilliant sky. C.J. glanced at the slight tinge of colour that was touching the leaves of nearby trees, and began to sing.  
"We're all going on an autumn holiday, no more Blackwing for a day or two, fun and laughter on our autumn holiday, no more worries for me or you, for a day or two."  
Michael smiled, but he didn't look quite as happy as he normally did when he smiled. C.J. tried not to worry about that. Whatever was wrong, they were going to get time together to sort it out.

The safehouse took most of an hour to get to, but when they parked C.J. jumped out of the car, staring around in wide eyed wonder. It was a small house, set back off the road, with a neat front lawn. Michael led him inside, and he raced around. The kitchen was full of food - there were brightly coloured cereals in the cupboard and fresh fruit in the fridge. The sofa was comfortable, there was an actual bath in the bathroom, and there were several bedrooms - some with two beds, and one with a big bed that he flopped out in the middle of, starfishing with his limbs sprawled in all directions. It was a very comfortable bed, and he wanted to share it with Michael. He looked out of the window at the small lawn, and then raced back downstairs to find that Michael was making coffee.

He kissed his cheek, then reached for his hand. Michael hesitated, but interlaced his fingers with C.J.'s.  
"I'm glad you're here with me," C.J. whispered, and Michael nodded, then leaning in, his lips brushing C.J.'s own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes communication is hard.

Michael smiled against C.J.'s lips, his arms around him. His heart was racing. He nuzzled in against C.J., leaning in to kiss at his throat, and C.J. gasped a little, arching his back and running his hands down Michael's back.   
"Oh..." C.J. groaned in pleasure, stroking his hand along the back of Michael's pants. Michael moaned. The two of them had never been outside of Blackwing unsupervised, and it was pretty clear that C.J. was enjoying being out of Blackwing's watch. Well. Mostly out of their watch.

Michael stepped away, blushing a little. "Ceej, there are cameras?"  
"Yeah?" C.J. frowned a little. "What's the problem?"  
"Ceej, the problem is that there are cameras."  
"I'm at least ninety percent sure Mister Priest isn't going to walk in this time."

Michael frowned, his arms around himself, considering his options. He took a deep breath, considering his response.  
"For a start, that's at least ten percent less sure than I'd like." That was the easy bit dealt with. He wanted to go back to making out now, but C.J. had said it so he had to ask. "Is that... is that something that's happened before?"

C.J. shrugged a little, jumping up onto the kitchen worktop and smiling at him.  
"I guess, I mean..." He considered, his voice slipping into what was clearly an attempt at a Southern accent. "Sorry to interrupt Svladdy, but Boss says if you got that much extra energy we ain't working you hard enough. You clean up now, I'll be outside when you're ready. You got double testing for a week." He snorted, his voice turning back to his normal careful accent. "But he's not here now."

"That's... that... shouldn't have happened," Michael tried to explain. C.J. shrugged slightly.  
"Life is what it is. I was a difficult teenager, that's how things are."  
"It shouldn't be..."  
"They watch us, all the time, that's how it is," C.J. answered. "I don't worry about the cameras. But if you don't like it, that's okay, we don't have to-"  
"You want to?" Michael asked nervously, leaning in and kissing him again.  
"Yeah," C.J. answered. "But we can use the bedroom? I know… I know the camera configuration for the safe house rooms, I learned them a long while ago. We can risk moving the wardrobe to the left about a foot and a half, and then we should have half of the bed hidden from view. There'll still be audio, but-"  
"You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"  
"Yes." C.J. was blushing slightly as he smiled. "I wanted us to have fun, if you..."  
"What do you know about this?"  
"Enough?" C.J. shrugged. "I read books. Uh... The Colonel said I wasn't allowed to sleep under the blankets for a while after that time, but.." He nuzzled against Michael's side. "It can't be too bad, right? If it was the human race would have died out a long time ago..."

Michael wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry at that comment.   
"I... I mean, I think I'm aiming for better than not too bad. But I guess we can start there and go onward."   
"And have more kisses?"  
"Definitely more kisses," Michael answered, kissing him gently. "All the kisses you could ever want."

C.J. smiled, wiggling happily where he stood and starting to gesture.  
"I thought tomorrow maybe we could go out for a bit? The Colonel said we could go for walks for an hour, and that would be nice? And we could ask about a trip. We could go to the supermarket, buy pizza and popcorn, and then come back and cuddle on the sofa, that's... that's what couples do, isn't it? I want to be... I want to be a couple with you."  
"Of course we can do that," Michael agreed, glad to see how animated C.J. got when he was excited about something, hands waving around in the air. "Maybe even get some beer. You haven't had an beer before have you?"  
"No?"  
"We'll get you a beer. Only one though, don't want you getting too drunk." Michael paused. "We can cuddle on the sofa for a bit now?" He wasn't sure why he felt quite so shy, but he did. He suspected that C.J.'s most recent revelation didn't help matters. Even if they moved the wardrobe, he was feeling cautious about actually carrying out the deed. He sighed to himself. Two years of dreaming about it, and C.J. was here literally and enthusiastically throwing himself into Michael's bed and he was reluctant. This was their chance. Three days to get this right.

Agent Black's warning echoed around his mind. He had to get this right, and she'd been quite clear that she expected him to tell C.J. about his role in his torture prior to their intimacy. That doing otherwise would be acting under false pretences, that she would find out. He was sure that she would, so he would have to tell him, but Michael had no idea how to bring that up in a casual conversation.   
"Sofa cuddles are the best cuddles. Just need to use the bathroom-" C.J. kissed his cheek and raced off.

When C.J. returned, he was wearing a pale blue t-shirt, which was a surprise after he had been wearing a bright orange one before.  
"Did you just change?"  
"Don't be ridiculous Michael. I'm still me. I'm just wearing different clothes."  
"Oh?"  
"I packed seven different t-shirts. I'm wearing two today and two on the last day of the trip, and changing twice in the middle day."  
"You and your colours," Michael said fondly.

"You like me being pretty-" C.J. answered, stretching so that Michael could look over his body and then pulling him over to sit on the sofa, snuggling up against him.   
"You are always beautiful," Michael answered. He knew this was his chance to say it, but he couldn't face doing it. "Maybe one day the two of us can share a bed all the time."  
"Three," C.J. corrected.  
"Three?" Michael frowned.  
"Well, Lamia too, once Blackwing has learned all they can from her. She can be a little teddy bear, she has the cutest little fluffy ears-"  
"Ceej, your sister is not sharing our bed when we're-"  
"She can think fractally thoughts, she won't know."  
"I can't," Michael said firmly. It was bad enough being expected to _perform_ in front of cameras, let alone to do it with someone else in the room.  
"Okay," C.J. frowned, considering. "It would be good to see her, but I can alternate every night? Sleep in your bed one day, then her bed the next, then your bed again? Or I can relocate in the middle of the night if that's more convenient."  
"C.J." Michael was feeling angry now, frustrated by how oblivious Ceej was being. Sometimes, it was adorable, but not now. Now it was just irritating.  
"What about... she's a teddy bear for us every night other than two nights a week when she can stay with Agent Black? Maybe Monday and Thursday, because I know that that t.v. show you like is on Thursdays, so we could watch it together..." He frowned a little. "Do we get to watch it while we're out?"  
"Yeah, we can watch X-files tomorrow evening," Michael answered, swallowing down his annoyance, because C.J. wasn't trying to be difficult. It wasn't like the four of them would ever get to play happy families anyway. C.J. could have his daydreams for now, they weren't harming anyone.

"You are the best!" C.J. answered, kissing Michael softly. Michael smiled, and wrapped an arm around C.J.'s shoulder.  
"That's you C.J." This was their vacation, and C.J. needed it to be good. They could cuddle.  
"There are fruit loops in the cupboard. And frozen pizza. Can we have those for dinner?"  
"Sure thing," Michael answered, flicking through the available programmes until he found a wildlife documentary. C.J. snuggled into his side, and he held him close.

C.J. was dozing by the time the documentary had finished, and Michael found himself channel hopping again, wasting an hour on a documentary about the origins of the Nazca lines. He was getting hungry, and his arm had fallen asleep where C.J. was laying on it.  
"Ceej, you have to let me out, I've got to make dinner."

C.J. whined, but trailed him into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Michael's waist as Michael put the pizza in the oven.  
"And you really want fruit loops for dinner?"  
"Yes," C.J. answered decisively. "They're sweet and brightly coloured and taste of fruit."

Michael had never heard anyone even consider that fruit loops held even the most passing of resemblances to fruit, but he didn't want to get into a silly argument, so he let C.J. pour out the food. C.J. did so eagerly, presenting him with two full bowls which he carried to the table, and they ended up eating there, sat side by side, C.J. smiling across at him as though everything was perfect.

After about half of his fruit loops, Michael began to feel sick, but he was unsure whether that was because of the revelation he'd have to share or his choice of food. He got the pizza from the oven, encouraging C.J. to have some.   
"I want to cook something with you," C.J. murmured, sounding almost sleepy, and Michael couldn't help hoping he would fall asleep on the sofa and any awkwardness could be avoided a little longer. "Will you teach me?"

"I'm sure I can," Michael answered, helping C.J. with the washing up, and then glancing at the sofa.  
"Do you want a movie?"  
"I… thought we should..." C.J.'s voice trailed off, and he blushed faintly, glancing down at his feet. "If you would like that."  
"We should move the wardrobe first," Michael answered. He wasn't sure when he'd realised that he wanted this, only that he knew he did and that C.J. wanted it as well. 

He kissed him again in the corridor, laughing slightly at the lingering taste of tomatoes. C.J. smiled slightly, then paused.  
"I don't have to sleep naked do I? I brought really nice pyjamas."  
"C.J., if you want to wear your pyjamas you should wear them." Michael hesitated a moment. "You're sure about this?"  
"We won't get a better chance," C.J. said decisively, going over to the correct cabinet and trying to push and pull it with no success.  
"Michael?"  
"I saw this thing about the big statues on Easter Island..." Michael placed one hand on the front of the cabinet, and the other on the back, and wobbled it forwards and backwards until it slipped into place. "Apparently the statues walked to where they live now."

C.J. laughed, throwing himself back on the bed, sprawled out.  
"This bed is so comfortable. Can we have one like this?"  
"I'm sure we can," Michael agreed, sitting down beside him. C.J.'s t-shirt had ridden up slightly, and he brushed his finger along a slight scarring there before looking up at C.J.  
"Sorry I'm a mess," C.J. muttered, and Michael knew what he meant, the scars that crossed his body from various tortures.  
"Everyone's a mess C.J., it doesn't matter. If you need to stop at any point, you just say, alright?"  
"Alright," C.J. echoed, and stretched, his shirt shifting higher on his hips. Michael reached out, brushing his finger against the scar.  
"You deserve better than that, C.J."

"It was a long time ago..." C.J. swallowed. "You don't mind do you?"  
"I think you look beautiful C.J." He placed a hand on each side, gently teasing the shirt up.  
"Thank you," C.J. gasped, then frowned. "We should call in and tell Agent Black we're safe."

Michael swallowed, thinking of her warning.  
"C.J., I need to talk to you about something."  
"Okay," C.J. agreed, and there was fear now in his eyes. Michael wanted to just kiss that concern away, to tell him it didn't matter, but he was afraid that Agent Black would be mad at him. More than that, he was worried that if this carried on, he might go too far, and hurt C.J. by lying - not that it was a lie, just an omission, but still. He had to tell him.

"I want you to know it was for your own good," Michael started, then cringed at the look in Michael's eyes, realising that was probably not a phrase he should have used. He sat up, and C.J. sat up as well, drawing his knees up to his chest. Michael reached out, putting an arm around C.J.'s shoulders, and C.J. leaned into the touch. "I hate... I hate seeing-" Michael shook his head, doubting that saying he hated seeing C.J. hurt would be the comfort he intended it to be. He considered for a moment, before trying again. "I hate how you get treated sometimes, how you get hurt."

"You take care of me," C.J. said softly, and it wasn't the way he'd speak to the Colonel. Michael had wanted to scream at the man once, when he'd heard how Ceej had _understood_ that the torture was all for his benefit. He didn't want C.J. to ever take that tone with him, to think that he had to get hurt to do well... so much of it angered Michael, and left him feeling helpless. "I don't like being hurt," C.J. admitted. "But it's better than it used to be, and I like working cases with you and Agent Black."

"I..." Michael squeezed C.J.'s shoulders, leaning in to kiss him before pulling away. This might be his last chance to kiss C.J., he might be about to ruin everything. "Our last mission was fun. But the one before... the Bergsberg incident-"  
"I stand by what I did," C.J. said firmly. "I had a hunch, and I followed it. That's what I'm _meant_ to do." 

"I know Ceej," Michael tried to placate him. "It's just that...well, Agent Black thought you should know..." Internally, Michael cursed himself for not having worked out a clearer explanation. He swallowed, and made himself say it. "I was involved in selecting your punishment that time." He could feel C.J. stiffen in his grasp - not trying to move away, just tensing as though expecting to be hit. "Priest was suggesting a beating, I thought shocks were going to be less damaging and more controlled."

The harsh bark of laughter that escaped C.J. made him jump.  
"Beatings from Mister Priest are controlled," he murmured, resentment strong in his voice. "He's learned just how far he can push us-"  
"I didn't want you getting any more scars Ceej. I know you hate them-"

C.J. didn't respond, his eyes closed now, his breath a little too fast and his body tense.  
"C.J. You need to breathe, easy..." Michael rubbed C.J.'s back, guiding him through the breathing exercises and trying not to notice the way that tears had slipped through his eyelashes.

"Did... did you tell me because Agent Black told you to?" C.J. whispered, the words coming out clipped as he tried to control his emotions.   
"I don't know," Michael admitted. "I didn't want you to think I was like them."

C.J. was very still, his eyes now fixed on the wall, unblinking. Michael felt like he was sitting beside a robot.  
"Ceej, come on, say something."  
"Do you want to just get it over with?" C.J. asked.

It took a few moments for the question to register, and when it did Michael almost stumbled backwards.  
"What? C.J, no. I wouldn't.... I only want to do things with you if you want. I did that to protect you, not-"  
"If you aren't then can you leave. Please."

"Ceej, I can't leave you alone."  
"The back door can be locked, I memorised the layout of the safehouses years ago. Take the key from that and go into the front garden, have a smoke or something. I'll stay in the bedroom unless I need to use the bathroom." C.J. wrapped his arms around himself. "Please. I need to be alone."  
"C.J.-"  
"Michael. Please. I need... I need some space. Just for a little while."

Michael took a deep breath, fighting down his urge to argue. C.J. deserved some form of privacy. Even if it was hard, the best thing he could do was respect C.J.'s wishes.  
"I'll be right outside the front door."  
He got up and walked away, closing the bedroom door behind him. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard a sob, and gripped the rail tighter. He wanted to run back, to hold him, but he didn't think he could. Not right now.

It hurt, but at this moment, he wasn't what C.J. needed.

***

Michael picked his phone from his pocket, staring at it, considering calling Agent Black. There was too much of a chance she'd be angry, that she'd tell him he deserved it. But he did need to report in, and didn't particularly fancy calling Priest. 

With a sigh, he dialled Agent Black's number.  
"Michael?" she asked, and he murmured his agreement. "What the hell do you think you're doing, leaving C.J. crying in a bedroom, I swear if you laid one finger on him that he didn't want I am going to-"  
"I didn't!" Michael interrupted, not wanting to discover where that particular threat was headed. He was quite fond of having all parts of anatomy in their correct positions, and suspected the threat would involve the loss of that. "I told him about my role in his punishment, like you said, and he went all weird."

"He went weird because his boyfriend told him that he'd decided how he wanted him punished?"  
"You know I was trying to protect him," Michael snapped, then sighed, slumping against the wall of the house. "He was being weird before anyway, talking about how we could have Project Lamia in our bed."

"Assistent? I want you to know you are very lucky that you are not here right now," Agent Black answered. "For a start, don't call her a project just because you're jealous. I listened to that conversation, and he was trying to compromise with you."  
"I don't want to have sex on his schedule!" Michael hissed. "I don't want it all planned out weeks in advance, that's not how you do relationships."

"It's how he does them," she answered. "He wants his friend as part of his life. They consider each other siblings for goodness sake. He's trying to work out how he can have both of you in his life, and if you aren't willing to compromise I think it'll be you he drops."  
"But-"  
"But nothing. He's been through a lot, and he's trying to dream up a life with you, and you crush it down. You know damn well that Blackwing won't ever let him out, so if he dreams of a castle with fucking unicorns you shouldn't stop him. And Michael? It isn't that you don't want to have sex on his schedule. You're angry he doesn't want to have sex on yours. And there are words for making someone have sex when they don't want to."

"That... that wasn't..."  
"If you didn't have Lamia one day and weren't feeling frisky, do you think C.J. would mind if you just cuddled on the sofa? He loves sleepovers. He loves cuddling up against you. You were throwing a tantrum at being cockblocked by not being the most important person in his life at all times. Now, Assistent, I'm going to hang up. But I'll be watching you, and if you do anything he doesn't like, I can be down there and getting rid of you in under an hour."

Michael flinched, glancing at the security camera and nodding.  
"One last thing," Agent Black told him. "This is meant to be a treat for him. This is the first vacation he's had. You need to try and give him a good time. And that probably doesn't mean sex, not now, not after you blew it quite so spectacularly. Just let him be happy, because he deserves it."  
"He does," Michael agreed, his voice little more than a whisper.  
"So do you, but I'll still kill you if you hurt him." With that, the line went dead, and Michael groaned, putting his phone in his pocket and sitting down on the ground, head back against the wall of the house.

Overhead, storm clouds were gathering.


	6. Chapter 6

C.J. didn't want to be on the bed any more, not now that Michael was gone. He felt sick. He'd ruined everything, the way he always did. Stupid C.J. always getting upset and acting wrong, always getting into fights he didn't understand and causing problems he shouldn't. Stupid.

He made sure he sat down in view of the cameras, not wanting an armed team to come and check up on him. He curled up and cried, already able to hear Mister Priest's mocking voice in his head.  
 _"Oh, didn't you like your honeymoon Svladdy? Did you really think you were different? That he cared? We got some really interesting data from this."_

C.J. screamed into the empty room, ugly sobs tearing from his throat. He ruined it. He ruined everything. This was meant to be nice, this was meant to be him and Michael together, as a couple, kissing and cuddling and doing everything else that couples did, and instead he'd destroyed it. 

It had been going well, when they'd gone to bed, and then he'd felt nervous when Michael had touched a scar, remembering how it had happened, ashamed of the mess his body was in. He knew that most people didn't have a mix of torture and medical scars, and they bothered him. But he'd pushed that aside, and he'd hoped that they could carry on, until he'd panicked. 

Michael had been trying to explain, to not trick him, and he had panicked. Even after Michael had told him he was beautiful. The thing was, if he'd been given the choice between a beating and shocks, he would have chosen the shocks. He just hated the fact he never got that choice, that it was always other people acting in his best interests. And then, even as he'd been angry, he'd gone too far. He'd upset Michael, and then asked him to leave, and now he was alone.

He wished Lamia was with him, she would have made a good teddy, or that Agent Black was, because she gave wonderful hugs. Most of all, he wished he could call Michael back, but the front door felt impossibly far away and he was crying too much to stand.

He wasn't even sure what he wanted. He had enjoyed not knowing, but he didn't want to have carried on without finding out. He wasn't sure if he had overreacted, if he had made a scene when really he should have been able to just cope.

He hoped that Michael had remembered to check in with Blackwing. This was meant to be a vacation, he didn't want to end up in trouble for doing something wrong, and unlike Michael he didn't have a phone. He was locked in the house, and the thought of standing up, walking downstairs, facing Michael - all of it overwhelmed him. He didn't know what he could say. If he'd angered one of the staff he should apologise, but he wasn't meant to apologise here, he didn't think. He didn't think Michael was like Mister Priest, or the others that were in charge of him. But Michael was in charge.

Michael had left him alone when he'd asked.

C.J. rocked slightly where he was sat, trying to comfort himself. Sometimes when Lamia was sad or scared she would be a metronome. C.J. wished he could do that, because metronomes didn't cry.

He wasn't sure what he'd be faced with when Michael came back in - if Michael would even come back in, or if he'd have to spend the next two days alone. He could move to a smaller bedroom perhaps, one of the single beds, like he was used to. 

Michael didn't want to have sex with him when he was upset, but he wasn't sure if it was the fact he was upset that was the issue there, or if it was him - if he'd done something wrong, something unforgivable. He'd liked working missions with Michael and Farah. They'd never made him feel like he was a tool, even though that was what he was. They always treated him like he was something special, like a person. 

He wondered if Agent Black would be angry with him for what he'd done.

He didn't think he'd been bad, but he wasn't sure. It was hard, when Michael and Agent Black tried to tell him to set boundaries and no one else wanted him to. 

Michael had left him alone when he'd asked.

CJ hoped the whole thing wasn't a failure, that this wouldn't be the end to being allowed to leave base. He knew in his heart that his 'job' was a long running experiment, that he was being observed and monitored just like before, only these were tests he could pass.

He was cold, and he could hear the wind howling outside.

Michael was outside. In the wind, because C.J. had asked him to go. Because C.J. had ordered him, and he'd listened to that order.

C.J. shivered, attempting to get to his feet, but his legs apparently weren't in the mood to support his bodyweight. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but it was still annoying. He sat back down, allowing himself to continue rocking, trying not to think about Mister Priest watching on the camera. He hoped that Agent Black wasn't too disappointed in him.

The Colonel would probably be delighted by how this weekend had gone. C.J. could play the whole thing to his favour, say he'd changed his mind, that he wasn't deviant - but he wasn't going to do that. He'd be honest, even if it kept him in trouble. C.J. had only ever been interested in men, and one bad experience wasn't going to change that. Not that it had been a bad experience, because Michael had left when he had asked.

It was late, and he could hear rain outside, and he was in the warm. Michael was standing outside in the cold.

He wasn't sure where they stood now, if Michael would still be willing to be his boyfriend, or if him getting angry had ruined it forever. Either way, he couldn't let him freeze on the doorstep.  
"I'm only going outside to let Michael back in," he told the room, not wanting to trigger any alarms. When no hidden speakers blared to life to warn him not to, he dragged himself towards the door, not trusting his legs. If he fell down the stairs now, he would have to wait for someone to come and rescue him. That didn't sound fun.

He ended up shuffling down the stairs on his backside, clinging to the stair rail to support. By the time he reached the end, he felt able to get to his feet if he held onto the railing, which he did, doing what he could to ignore the tears that were still running down his face. He'd never been much good at not crying, something that Mister Priest had always commented on when he'd been called upon to put him in his place, before he'd been an agent, before he'd been Michael's partner.

He fumbled with the front door, spinning open the door and half collapsing outside, only Michael caught him.  
"Ceej?" Michael asked, and he was being helped back inside, towards the sofa. "Look, let me get you some water, then I'll go if you want-"

Michael walked away to get the glass, and C.J. knew that the keening sound he could hear was his own voice. Michael returned with some water, making sure he was comfortable on the sofa, handing him the water and going to walk away.

C.J. grabbed onto his wrist, feeling that the fabric of his shirt was spotted with rain.  
"Please don't leave..."  
Michael was sat beside him in an instant, his arms around him, his fingers stroking through C.J.'s hair as he cradled him against his chest. C.J. sobbed to himself, and the world seemed to blur around them.

He woke when Michael shifted slightly, his lips brushing C.J.'s hair.  
"I'm sorry about before," Michael told him, and C.J. nodded, yawning.   
"I'm tired."  
"I know Ceej, you just slept for half an hour. Come on, let's get you into bed."  
"I want my pyjamas," C.J. muttered, because that was important, that was something he had planned for this weekend.  
"Okay, you can get changed into your pyjamas and I can go and sleep in the next room."  
"Do..." C.J. swallowed. "Are... are those my options? I have to... have intercourse with you, or sleep separately?"

"What?" Michael looked at him startled. "No, C.J. We've been sharing a bed for ages. I just want you comfortable."  
"I'd... I'd like a hug, if that's alright."  
"You can have a hug," Michael agreed, and he helped C.J. towards the stairs.

C.J. felt too exhausted to do much, merely lifting the correct limbs as Michael wrestled him into his pyjamas, then went to get changed in the bathroom. Michael's arms snaked around his waist, and he drifted off to sleep, no longer aware of anything other than the fact that he wasn't alone any more.

His last thought was that Michael had come back when he'd asked.

***

C.J. slept deeply, waking only when Michael returned to the bed with a tray of breakfast foods.  
"Hey sleepyhead," Michael greeted him. "We have permission for a grocery store trip later if you want to, and we can go for an hour's walk this afternoon. The rain has stopped."  
"Thank you," C.J. answered. He felt a little strange, after crying so heavily. He felt almost dizzy, like he was floating.  
"I thought you'd need some breakfast," Michael offered, and C.J. nodded, struggling to sit up. Food was good, and food with Michael was better.  
"I'm sorry about-"  
"You don't need to be sorry, C.J.. I'm sorry I put you in that position. It wasn’t fair.”

C.J. swallowed nervously, not wanting to say the wrong thing, to cause hurt or upset Michael, but also not wanting to lie. Breakfast smelt good.  
"I... I would have made the same choice, if I had been given the option," he tried to explain. "The thing that hurt was that I wasn't... I wasn't allowed to choose. Everyone else... gets to choose things for me. And this… I didn't..." He shrugged slightly. "It's not that I'm angry at you. I just... feel angry sometimes." He took the plate he was offered, dipping the toast in the egg yolk as he tried to work out what to say next.

"Lamia says sometimes she feels like there's a fire inside of her, when she's scared or hurting, and she wants to let it out but it'll hurt people so she can't. She is a fire sometimes, but not one that burns. She's ...beautiful. These soft purple flames that tickle if you touch them... but that's Lamia. She's wonderful. I... I don't think my fire would be like that." He shivered. "When I was younger, I used to spend a lot of time in solitary, and I would scream and scream until there was no noise left. Sometimes... I still feel like that." As he spoke, C.J. stared down at his plate. He didn't feel brave enough to look up, to see what was reflected in Michael's eyes. He wasn't sure if this admission was shameful, didn't want to find out. He shivered a little. 

"I don't get to choose, Michael. Not much. Maybe I pick the sweets we eat on a mission, or whether I sleep facing the wall or the door, or whether I'm polite to people or not, but that's... it. Other people choose for me. And finding you'd done that... it scared me." He tensed as Michael's arm wrapped around his shoulders, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You don't need to be," Michael promised, and his lips pressed against C.J.'s forehead, before he tilted his head so that he could kiss him tenderly. "You don't need to be sorry. If that's something that you want, I can do that. Try and let you choose."  
"Thank you," C.J. whispered, and he tried to focus on eating, not wanting to cry into his breakfast. Michael was beside him, an arm around his shoulder, and C.J.smiled damply up at him. It wasn't easy. But Michael seemed to care about him.

"It's okay."  
"You came back."  
"You asked me to," Michael shrugged. "If you need me there, I can do that."  
C.J. nodded, trying not to think of the first time he'd ended up in solitary, because he'd told Mister Priest to leave him alone. It would have been easy for the man to hit him. But he'd wanted C.J. to really learn his lesson, and that had meant being locked in that small dark room for what felt like forever. He'd seen his records. It was only seventeen days. But it had felt like an eternity. He had been worried he would have lost Michael in the same way.

Michael was there with him, and that helped chase away a little of his fear.

He took a deep breath, focusing on the fact that this wasn't the same. He was in control of what was happening now. Michael wouldn't deprive him of contact as punishment, or hurt him for no reason. He wasn't a scared little child, even when his heart raced and he lost track of where he was.  
"Thank you," he murmured, and Michael nodded, hugging him gently. Michael's arms felt safe around him, rather than imprisoning, and he closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy them, before he stretched.  
"When can we go to the grocery store?"  
"When it's light," Michael said quickly. "Both that and the walk, but we don't have to do them in any particular order." He glanced at C.J. and then shrugged his shoulders. "What would you like to do first?"

C.J. grinned at him, delighted that Michael had actually listened when he'd said he wanted the opportunity to make choices. That was what he was getting the chance to do. He knew that for most people, the order they did things in wouldn't matter, but to him it meant that he had some degree of control of his life.  
"Maybe we could walk first?" he suggested, feeling a flood of relief when Michael nodded. Walking would enable them to talk without being spied on, and C.J. wanted to try and explain more about what was wrong, without Mister Priest getting the opportunity to learn that his punishments still haunted C.J. nearly two decades later.

"That sounds good," Michael agreed. "You want to put on something that isn't pyjamas?"  
"I've got a blue t-shirt to wear first thing, then an orange one with little suns on, and then a purple smart shirt that I thought I could wear while we watched X-Files."  
"You get dressed, okay? And I'll make you a tea and me a coffee - there's some thermos flasks we can take with us."  
"Thank you," C.J. said as politely as he could, going to get dressed.

***

C.J. cuddled his thermos against his chest as Michael locked up the safehouse, before reaching out for his hand and squeezing gently. Michael squeezed back, and C.J. grinned, keeping their fingers interlaced as he almost skipped off down the path.

Michael walked quickly to keep up, an indulgent expression on his face. He didn't seem angry with C.J., or frustrated by him. He just looked happy that they were together, and that C.J. was smiling. C.J. tucked that fact into his heart, feeling honoured that he was able to cause that expression.

"Ceej?" Michael asked, after they had been walking together for a few minutes. "Do you like working for Blackwing?"  
"I guess?" C.J. answered with a shrug. "I mean, I've been there for years, and there is more freedom as an agent, not to mention the fact I can use my abilities in ways that are helpful. I think I like working there."

"You wouldn't rather work somewhere else?" Michael asked, and C.J. shrugged.  
"It doesn't matter. I wouldn't be allowed. I prefer here to being an experiment..." He gazed up at the trees, noticing how the leaves were a vivid mixture of different hues. He wondered if he would be permitted to take some back for Lamia, decided he could ask in his next call. He realised Michael was talking, but had no idea what about.  
"Sorry," he muttered. "I got distracted there, what were you saying?"

Michael released his hand, moving so that he was standing in front of him, and beginning to gesture.  
"I was saying Ceej, if you wanted... you shouldn't stay with Blackwing."  
"It's not a choice," C.J. reminded him, as carefully as he could. "Some things, I can decide, but not that. Never that."

"What if you run away? I could go with you, we could-"  
"No," C.J. interrupted, his voice abrupt and tinged with panic. "We aren't running away from Blackwing, Michael. There'd be nowhere to go, and they're well resourced. They'd find us. Anyway, it'd be too dangerous."  
"We could just disappear!" Michael argued, and C.J. crossed his arms.

"Michael. Project Lamia can turn invisible. Project Banshee can kill people with her voice. Project Marzanna is invulnerable. They've captured them. We can't outrun them. All that would happen is that we'd be caught, you'd be killed, Agent Black and Lamia would be punished and I would be back to life as a project. We can't."  
"But Ceej-"  
"No. Michael, please. Don't say that again. Don't even think about it. Because I care about you, and I don't want you dead, but I don't want Lamia hurt either. It's too dangerous." C.J. blinked back tears. "Can we just enjoy the walk in the woodland? There's twenty seven minutes before we need to go back, so let's just... let's just walk, and forget this happened, okay?" He reached out for Michael's hand.

There was a pause, before Michael nodded, his fingers wrapping around C.J.'s. They walked on in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

Michael walked back to the safehouse holding onto C.J.'s hand, trying to reassure him with the physical contact. C.J.'s words continued to bounce around his mind, as well as the sheer terror that had dominated C.J.'s expression when he had suggested fleeing. Ideally, it wouldn't have been hidden, in his mind. He'd have liked to just both hand their notices in and walk away, but he knew that realistically it wasn't going to work like that. 

Still, C.J.'s response had startled him. He hadn't expected his own life to be in danger, and didn't see how Lamia could possibly be punished when she was trapped within a glass box and was completely separate from what was being planned. He tried to tell himself that C.J. was just overreacting, that the stress of the last few days was getting to him.

But C.J. believed it, and he didn't know how to respond to that. C.J. honestly thought that if they tried to escape, it would be signing his own death warrant, and that thought frightened him because C.J. had to have gotten that idea from somewhere. He couldn't believe that the Colonel would sanction it, but it was possible that Priest had threatened it, said something in an attempt to keep the projects under control. That was terrifying, because the man was possibly unhinged enough to try and carry it out. He'd always freaked Michael out, and that explanation from C.J. made his fear feel justified.

Once they were back inside, he made some coffee, then went to sit beside C.J. on the couch. C.J. yawned and nuzzled against him, then twisted so that they could kiss for a moment. Michael returned the kiss, then paused.  
"You're sure you want this?"  
"I like choosing things, Michael," C.J. explained. "And I'm not a child any more, even if some people treat me like one. I'm old enough to know what I want."

"And that's... this?"  
"Well, ideally it's seeing Lamia." C.J. was teasing and Michael found himself smiling at that. "But yes, seeing you, being able to spend time with you and hold you close, that's part of it as well. This is what I'm choosing, and I like choosing it."

"Okay." Michael breathed out slowly, making himself smile even when he felt a little nervous, because C.J. needed that. His own fears couldn't overpower what C.J. wanted, not when he wanted this as well. It wasn't up to him to decide whether or not C.J. could agree to this. "I ... we won't be in trouble for this, will we?"  
"This weekend is my reward," C.J. answered. "I managed some successes. We solved the Patrick Spring case and avoided a rather unfortunate time loop, so I get something nice. And getting time with you, in clothes I have chosen and food I wanted, that's a good time. A really good time." C.J. smiled brightly, and Michael leaned in to hold C.J.'s hands with his own.

"You aren't alone any more C.J.."  
"I know," C.J. promised. "Next time we check in with the Colonel can you ask him if I'm allowed to bring a leaf back for Lamia? I know I'm not allowed to see her yet, but if someone else delivers the gift then that's different, isn't it?" 

Michael pretended not to hear the slight tinge of desperation in C.J.'s voice. He remembered how happy Lamia had been to have a pine cone, and a question began to form in his mind. It wasn't a question which he wanted to ask, but he knew that he would have to. He swallowed down his fear and gave voice to it.  
"When was Lamia last outside?"

"I think it would be... sixteen years ago? Perhaps seventeen?" C.J. frowned to himself, his face screwed up a little as he tried to concentrate. "Because she arrived after I'd been here around eighteen months. Normally she's just in her room, as time has gone on they've done better security. But I'm a lot harder to misplace than she is, so they let me go out, and I used to bring her presents, pretty rocks and things. She likes hearing about the outside world. It inspires her."

Michael could see the affection sparkling in C.J.'s eyes when he spoke about his sister, knew that she meant the world to him. He tried not to be jealous, reminding himself that the fondness C.J. had for Lamia was very different. He'd never been particularly close to his brother, and yet here was C.J. wanting to protect someone he wasn't even related to.  
But that wasn't fair. The two of them were close, and the simple question of genetics didn't change that - they were close, and the fact that C.J. was being punished by being kept apart from her was infuriating, because he didn't deserve it. C.J. knew it wasn't fair, and he kept going on.

He didn't respond for a little while, until C.J. sighed.  
"She's a weak spot, and they all know it." He reached out, wrapping his hands around Michael's own. "She's been in trouble for my mistakes before, and now you are at risk of that too. I didn't mean that. I didn't mean any of it, I just... I just wanted to be happy. To be free, for a little while."

"I don't mind, Ceej," Michael answered, leaning in to kiss C.J. on the cheek, squeezing his hand in return. "You're worth it."  
"I try," C.J. answered, swallowing a little anxiously. "I just..."  
"Don't worry about the future okay? We've got this, for now."  
"Thank you." C.J. grinned. "When should I get changed so we can watch your show, are you alright sorting out food? Maybe I can help cut things up, I'm good at that."  
"Okay," Michael paused. "Have you learned to cook?"  
"Food just appeared every day when I was a project." C.J. smiled triumphantly, fishing his ID card from his pocket and waving it in front of Michael's face. "Now I can go to the canteen and there's a whole range of things! Like, some days they have chips, and other days there's salad, and the other day there was some cheese in batter, that was tasty and it made a squeaking noise when you bit into it."  
"I... see." Michael considered. "Shall we go to the supermarket now then, get some food?"

"Alright." C.J. hesitated. "It's just for... tonight and breakfast, isn't it?"  
"Yes. So we can't get everything," Michael reminded him, knowing even as he said it that if C.J. decided to fill up an entire supermarket cart with a million different items, he was going to accept it all.

"What's your favourite food?" C.J. asked as the two of them headed out of the house.  
"Ice cream," Michael answered quickly, and C.J. made a face but nodded.  
"What kind?"  
"Chocolate."  
"I guess chocolate’s okay?" C.J. said hesitantly, his nose wrinkled a little in distaste.

"You aren't telling me you don't like ice cream, Ceej. You eat candy at a ridiculous rate."  
"That's candy!" C.J. protested. "Candy is candy and ice cream is ice cream. Anyway, ice cream is cold and it hurts my head. But we can get you some, and I can have something nicer."  
"Have you ever had a soda float?" Michael asked, and C.J.'s blank expression answered that one.  
"We can get the ingredients for that. It's not exactly cooking, it's just soda and ice cream, but it's another thing you can learn to do."

C.J. kissed him enthusiastically before he climbed into the passenger seat.  
"You can open the window if you want," Michael conceded. He still felt a little embarrassed by how enthusiastic C.J. was when he could see the outside world, but he was starting to understand why.

***

Grocery shopping with C.J. was an experience, one that Michael suspected would stay with him for the rest of his life. It wasn't that C.J. acted in a way that was particularly inappropriate - in fact, he handled the entire experience better than would be expected for someone who grew up within a government test site. It was more that C.J.'s endless enthusiasm for life happened to combine with a complete cluelessness about what was happening. Michael suggested C.J. push the shopping cart, and he'd done so with delight. Michael pretended he hadn't seen the few moments when C.J. had taken his feet off the ground.

When it was done, they returned to the safe house laden with sweets, candy, dessert, ice cream, some microwave meals (because they had intrigued C.J)., and some pasta. Michael was fairly sure he would be able to work with C.J. on making some kind of pasta salad, and then the two of them could eat themselves into a sugar coma in front of the television. He wasn't sure about plans after that. He hoped that they could go to the same bed, and that C.J. would at least want to cuddle and be close, even if he wasn't in the mood for more.

Michael tried not to consider the reception that would await him back at Blackwing. He knew that some of the staff had been betting on how far he and C.J. would get, and didn't particularly feel like being the focus of office gossip. Still, C.J. acted as though it didn't bother him.

C.J. glanced over at Michael as he spooned a few chunks of ice cream into the soda, staring at it curiously then taking a sip. He grinned, so Michael marked that one as a success.

They were just about to start on the salad when the phone rang, and Michael answered it.  
"Hello?"  
"Hey," Agent Black greeted him. "You boys having fun? Better than yesterday?"  
"Much, thanks."  
"Good. Well, I'm planning on talking to C.J. after this, so if anything has gone wrong-"  
"I get the picture!" Michael squeaked slightly, trying to avoid being threatened when he was having a perfectly good day. Agent Black actually laughed at him, and he felt his face heat up a little in embarrassment, glaring at the telephone. He knew that Agent Black probably couldn't see his facial expression, but it made him feel better.

"We've had a pretty good day," Michael answered, and C.J. nodded, an arm around Michael's waist.  
"I can see that. You are sickeningly cuddly," she teased, and then there was a more serious note to her voice. "Look, I'm fine, and so is Lamia, but we had a slightly strange day. Probably the strangest I've had. I'll tell you about it later. Just don't worry, okay?"  
"Agent Black, last week involved a time loop. How could the weekend be weirder?"

"It just was," she said firmly. "Now, look, I'm only allowed to keep Lamia out for a few more minutes, so can you pass the phone to C.J.?"

Michael shrugged, holding the phone out.  
"It's for you."  
"Hello-Oh Agent Black it's wonderful to hear your voice-" C.J. was grinning, and then almost squealed and bounced from foot to foot. "Hello you! I've been missing you so much you know, and I will work really hard to get you back. How have you been? That's good sweetie. Oh that sounds wonderful, you'll have to get me one. I'm going to ask the Colonel about a leaf for you, yes, because you looked lovely as a leaf before… thank you." He straightened a little, exchanged a few brief words, and then the call went dead and he grinned at Michael.  
"Lamia has learned how to make little origami stars!"  
"That's good," Michael answered, assuming he was giving the correct response. It was a little hard to know what to say at times when faced with C.J.'s unwavering enthusiasm, but based on the way he smiled he'd made the right call this time.

"Shall we finish the salad then?" he asked, glancing around the kitchen to work out where he left the knife.

***

C.J. was wearing the purple shirt he'd planned to as they cuddled on the couch, the food between them. Michael decided not to try and keep track of the amount of sweets that were being eaten, instead enjoying the way that C.J. watched the screen - he leaned in towards it, his entire being focused on what was happening, and every time something jumped out or moved unexpectedly C.J. would physically jump, then laugh slightly, then cuddle back against Michael before he again became distracted by the programme and leaned in. 

Michael was glad it was one of the earlier episodes playing - C.J. would handle monster of the week issues far better than far reaching government conspiracy plots. He decided that now was not the time to go off on one of his favourite diatribes about the difference in behaviour between aliens as represented in television series, and those you were likely to encounter in real life, because it was getting late and he didn't feel like explaining the more complicated details of that to C.J. when he was either on a sugar high or a sugar crash.

After the episode was finished, C.J. cuddled up on his shoulder.  
"Sofa's comfy."  
"Bed's comfy too," Michael reminded him gently. "And we don't need to do anything more than cuddle."  
"You're not… disappointed in me?" C.J. asked softly, and Michael shook his head, leaning in and kissing him.  
"I want you comfortable Ceej. I'd love to... if you wanted that, I'd enjoy it. But you aren't in the mood for it at the moment, and that's alright. Your happiness matters." With that, he took C.J.'s hand, and they headed up to bed.

C.J. ended up curling up with his head on Michael's chest, his eyes closed. It was a position that made it hard for Michael to see his expression, but from what he could make out it appeared that C.J. was smiling.  
"Do we have to head back first thing?" C.J. asked, and Michael considered.  
"We could fit in another walk if you want. I'll call first thing, ask permission for the leaves, and we can go from there."  
"You're the best," C.J. told him sleepily, leaning up for a goodnight kiss which tasted of toothpaste. Michael smiled, wrapping a blanket around the two of them. The weekend hadn't gone according to plan, but it had worked out alright, and they were still beside each other, able to hold on to what they had built and strengthen it. He drifted off to sleep feeling more confident than he had for a long time.

He woke up to find that C.J. was still laying against him, arms around him. He decided that there were worse fates than ending up as a psychic's teddy bear, and lay still for a while until C.J. wriggled into wakefulness.  
"Morning," he murmured, then let C.J. go to freshen up as he called into base.

"You're allowed to bring back three leaves for her, which will be displayed outside her box for a week."  
"Thanks." C.J. smiled and kissed him. "I'll make breakfast, then we can go for a walk?"

Michael nodded, letting C.J. head downstairs, fairly confident in his ability to make breakfast. The resulting bowls of food were a little sweeter than Michael would have liked, but certainly edible, and he ate and then checked some work emails as C.J. washed up. The two of them walked through the woodland, C.J. agonising over which leaves best captured the full array of colours.  
"I wish we could stay like this," C.J. murmured. "And that Lamia could come too."  
"I know," Michael paused. "You've got like ten leaves there."  
"They're a shortlist!" C.J. tried to explain, leading him back to the safe house and laying the leaves out, trying various combinations.

Michael packed up their stuff, putting it back in the car.

With an exaggerated sigh, C.J. picked three leaves out, examining them front and back. Whatever it was that he was searching for, he seemed satisfied by what he saw.  
"These ones," he announced, and Michael nodded.  
"If you want." Michael couldn't tell what in particular stood out about those leaves, but he trusted C.J.'s judgement on this.

C.J. hesitated, glancing around the room.  
"I guess we have to go back now?"  
"I don't want to risk you being late and being in trouble," Michael agreed, and C.J. nodded, trying to smile. Michael pretended not to see the pain in C.J.'s eyes, because there was nothing he could do.   
"You want to pick the music on the way back?"  
"Not really," C.J. sighed, and went to sit in the car, still carrying his precious leaves. "I'll change when I'm back on base, while you give Lamia her presents, deal?"  
"Deal," Michael agreed. It was going to be hard, seeing C.J. back in uniform when he somehow looked much more alive when he was given colours.

C.J. was quiet on the drive back. A couple of times Michael tried to strike up conversation, to be greeted with monosyllabic answers, so he gave up. He parked in the garage, frowning when he saw Agent Priest waiting. C.J. seemed to shrink down in his seat.  
"Welcome home Mike," Agent Priest greeted him, reaching into his pocket and handing over twenty dollars. "Thought you deserved a share of my winnings. Two different bets and I won them both, you're pretty fucking predictable."

Michael hesitated, not wanting to take the money but also not wanting to appear rude.  
"Hmm?" he mumbled, realising C.J. still hadn't left the car.  
"That you'd be too chicken-shit to actually go through with anything, and that Svladdy would end up crying too hard to talk. Got me four hundred dollars." He smirked. "Word to the wise, I'd steer clear of Maxine in the canteen for a bit. She had fifty dollars riding on you. Well, riding on him riding on you, if you get what I mean, and she's pretty pissed." With that, he slapped Michael on the back and walked off. Michael glared after him, taking a couple of shaky breaths.

C.J. climbed out of the car, a horrified expression on his face.  
"Were you involved in the betting?"  
"No!" Michael answered, shocked that C.J. would even suggest it. "I don't want everyone talking about me behind my back."  
"That is what happens if you date something like me," C.J. muttered. "Guess I'm just shameful-"  
"Don't do that Ceej. It's not about you." Michael reached out, wrapping his arms around him, then pulling back so they could look into each other's eyes. "I don't care awhat they say about me, not really. I just don't like that it upsets you."  
"I'm used to it," C.J. mumbled but there was a smile there. A fragile one, but a real smile nonetheless, and given the situation, Michael thought he could work with that.  
"We best report to the Colonel then find Agent Black," he suggested, and C.J. nodded, leading the way.

C.J. headed along the corridors without faltering, even though he didn't appear to be leading to the Colonel's office. Michael had long ago realised that when things like this happened, it was best to just let him lead and not suggest that he might be leading due to any kind of preternatural psychic ability.

They turned a corner, and practically bumped into the Colonel.   
"Agent Cjelli."  
"Sir."  
"What are the clothing regulations on base?" the Colonel asked, and Michael flinched. He'd forgotten about C.J.'s clothing, and judging by C.J.'s expression he had done the same.

"I'm meant to be in uniform sir. Sorry. I just wanted to notify you that we had returned and then I was going to change." C.J. was standing to attention, but holding himself a little awkwardly, and Michael realised he was trying to hide the leaves he had brought Lamia for the Colonel's sight. Michael stepped forwards, shielding C.J.'s hand with his folder so that he could take the leaves from him.  
"It's my fault Sir, I suggested we prioritise seeing you."  
"Is there anything in particular you need to report?" the Colonel challenged, and Michael found himself unable to say anything.  
"No sir," C.J. answered, and the Colonel nodded, reaching out and placing a protective hand on his shoulder, leaning in slightly. He murmured something, and Michael saw a momentary glint of pure fear in C.J.'s eyes before C.J. shook his head.  
"I think we can continue as we are sir," C.J. answered, and the Colonel nodded and walked away.  
"Agent Black wanted to know when you were back on base, she was asking me earlier if you had returned yet."

"Thank you sir." C.J. practically scuttled away down the corridor, and Michael had to walk faster to grab his hand.  
"Ceej?"  
"He asked if I was still comfortable working with you," C.J. managed to explain, between deep gasping breaths.  
"Okay, easy..." Michael tried to soothe him, to demonstrate how he should be breathing. After a couple of moments, C.J.'s breathing slowed enough to match his own, and Michael embraced him. "We're still working together, okay?"

C.J. nodded slowly, and Michael squeezed his hand.   
"You need to go and get changed, I'll take Lamia her leaves. Any special messages?"  
"Just tell her I miss her and I'll find a way to see her again, soon as I'm allowed," C.J. said softly.

Michael nodded, going to do that while C.J. went to get changed. The Colonel was going to be keeping a closer eye in future he suspected, and that meant he'd have to be careful not to be seen as breaking any rules. The Colonel was probably going to be looking for any reason he could find to split them up.

He pushed open the door to Lamia's room, and saw that she was sitting on the floor of her tank, cross legged and holding a little strip of paper which she was staring at intently. A moment later a large piece of metal machinery filled the box, and it sprung to life, arms moving and crossing over one another. After a few seconds it disappeared, and now Lamia was holding a little paper star on the palm of her hand. 

"Hello Assistent!" She waved at him, and held up the star. "I can leave this in the corner and you can have it?"  
"That would be nice, thank you Lamia," Michael answered, almost jumping when he saw that Agent Black was standing nearby.   
"Good to see you Michael," she greeted him, and he nodded his head, then opened the folder he was holding.  
"C.J. sent you these-" he showed her the leaves. 

Lamia giggled and clapped her hands in excitement, and then tilted her head to look at him.  
"Is he coming to visit me?"  
"He can't right now. But he says he misses you and he'll come when he can."  
"Oh… that's nice, I guess?" she murmured, then paused. "Can I have another paper so that I can make him a star?"

Agent Black walked over, carefully opening the glass box and retrieving the paper star, then replacing it with a paper strip. The same process as before happened, a machine folding the star into shape. Michael applauded.  
"She can do it when she's human too, but she thought this might be a challenge. She's only allowed one piece of paper at a time so that she doesn't get muddled in with the decorations."  
"She's done it very well," Michael answered, looking at the paper star which was so carefully folded. "You had a good few days?"  
"I'll talk to you after my shift," Agent Black answered. Michael couldn't help thinking that as an answer, that sounded rather ominous.  
"How was your weekend?" she asked, and Michael shrugged slightly.  
"Uh... everyone seems to know how it went, if I'm honest."

"Well, you're still alive, so you did something right." Agent Black was smiling, and Michael couldn't work out whether that smile was meant as reassurance or a threat. "Drinks later?"  
"Drinks sound good," Michael agreed. "Thank you for the star Lamia."  
"It's okay!" she answered, now carefully folding one with her fingers, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as she folded the paper neatly. She hugged it between her hands, bringing it to her mouth to whisper to it and looking Michael in the eye.  
"You'll give this one to Cee?"  
"Okay," he promised, taking the paper from her and heading back to the office. There was a pile of paperwork there. C.J. was already at his desk, flicking through the files, and he groaned.  
"How has so much paperwork appeared? We were gone for two days."  
"We'll sort it out," Michael answered, holding out the star. "This is from Lamia. She gave it a hug."  
"Thank you," C.J.'s face lit up, and he took the small piece of paper from him, cuddling it against his chest with a smile. "Very much appreciated. Now, we'd better get on with work..."

***

Michael left base with Agent Black that evening, sitting in the passenger seat of her car.  
"What happened?"  
"I... came to realise how bad an environment this is for C.J.," Agent Black answered after a moment. "If he was out in the world, free, he could really help people, make a huge difference. But instead he's a prisoner and it's hurting him."

"I tried to tell him we could leave, but he refused," Michael murmured. "He was worried about you, and about what would happen to Lamia."

Agent Black twisted in her seat for a moment, staring at him in disbelief and shaking her head.  
"You suggested you leave?"  
"He turned it down. Fuck, you're not going to report me are you?"  
"No!" She pulled into a parking space. "I'm not. But you shouldn't tell people you considered it. More than that though, C.J. deserves better than half formed ideas like that. You said what, you two could just run away? You wouldn't last five minutes, and of course he wasn't going to leave Mo… Lamia."  
"What do you mean?"

"They'd set Priest and me and Project Incubus after you."  
"Project Incubus hate authority."  
"They do, but they want Project Succubus safe, and it would be easy to use her against them." Agent Black answered. "You'd be pulled back before you crossed state lines on your own, wouldn't know what you were doing or how to last."

"We'd need an expert."  
"You would," she agreed. "And you'd need to take his sister as well." She turned, and looked Michael in the eye. "You wouldn't survive alone out there. Give me some time, let me set some things up - we need a plan. So that if the opportunity appears and we have to run, we can do it."

"Okay," Michael agreed. "Drinks now?"  
"Drinks. Don't mention it to anyone else, and maybe only let Ceej know. Then... well, we'll see how it works out, okay? I can't promise anything. But give me some time."

"Thank you," Michael agreed, lingering on those thoughts as the car engine again revved to life.

***

C.J. had carefully placed the little star pride of place on his bookshelf when Michael came in to greet him the next morning. He was sitting at his desk, reading some newspaper reports with a serious expression on his face. He looked up as Michael arrived, flashing him a smile.  
"Did you have fun last night?"  
"Yes, thank you." Michael wanted to tell him that things had changed, that they weren't alone in their plan of escaping, but it wasn't the time right now. He'd have to find a time when they weren't being listened to, when they could act without fear of being caught.

C.J. yawned and stretched.  
"Should we go and get breakfast?"

Michael nodded, walking with him through the base, trying not to notice if anyone was looking at them, because that was just a part of life now. People stared, and if all went to plan, then they wouldn’t be staring for that much longer. They got some breakfast, and then C.J. started to talk about potential leads for future cases. Michael allowed C.J.'s voice to drift over him, his own mind racing - for once he didn't even feel a tinge of disappointment at the continued absence of aliens.

They were going to get out. All four of them, away from Blackwing, and C.J. was going to get a chance to live as the person he deserved to be, no longer trapped and living in constant fear.

He considered, watching as C.J. ate his breakfast, looking up every so often to smile at Michael as though making sure he was still there.  
"Hey," he called out as an idea hit him. "Ceej, you had remembered the layout of the safehouse and the cameras."  
"Yeah?"  
"You know it for the base as well?"  
"Of course?" C.J. looked rather offended at the idea he wouldn't have memorised this several years ago. 

Michael smiled at him, trying to communicate with his eyes. It took a few moments before C.J. suddenly went wide eyed and nodded, and Michael could only hope he understood the request was to let him know when they could talk without observation. 

The day passed, and he was beginning to worry that his request had been missed when C.J. stopped in a corridor.  
"We can talk here for a minute or so before anyone bothers us. No audio or visual."

"I spoke to Agent Black. She says she'd help. If we're getting out, were going to take Lamia with us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading and commenting!


	8. Chapter 8

"If we're getting out..." C.J. swallowed. He wanted to just say yes, to run away with Michael and Lamia and Agent Black, to put the last eighteen years behind him. He knew that the Colonel would be disappointed by that instinct, but he couldn't help the fact he longed for freedom. It would be easy to say that he was just going to run away with him. But something held him back. He swallowed, taking a calming breath and trying to work out what would happen next. There were a lot of things that could go wrong, that much was obvious, but he knew what he was going to say even before he opened his mouth. It was something he had dreamed about as a child, that he had discarded as foolish a long time ago and now was considering his options as escape was in his grasp. He looked Michael in the eye, speaking to him quietly.   
"If we're getting out, then we have to free all of them."

"Ceej-"  
"It'll be safer, for everyone," C.J. reasoned. "And no one deserves to be trapped here. If they still have people, they can use them-" There was the distant sound of movement in the corridor, and C.J. continued walking to their office, making a show to the cameras of straightening his shirt and running his fingers through his hair to smooth it. The people who were watching were going to talk anyway. It was better to give them something to talk about which would throw them completely off the scent, rather than leave questions unanswered. 

Michael stared at him, and he could feel himself blushing slightly, glancing down at the floor as he walked along. He kept thinking through what had happened. That Michael was still raising the idea of escape. Even the concept terrified him, but it was exciting. He knew that Michael would be risking a lot by going along with this - Colonel Riggins had a use for C.J. and Lamia, but the Blackwing staff were replaceable. He'd seen what happened when Marzanna got out of her cell, and the thought of freeing her did frighten him. But at the same time, he knew what was right, his hunch reassuring him that was what he had to do. Because all of the freaks cooped up in Blackwing were meant to be out in the world, and things wouldn't be right until they were set free.

Michael's hand found his, and squeezed gently, and C.J. felt a little calmer. Maybe, they could make this work. It wasn't going to be easy, and there was a very high risk that it would end in torture and death. But he was being offered a chance to be out in the world with Michael beside him, doing whatever it was that he needed to do, and he couldn't turn that opportunity down.

Michael wasn't going to leave him. He was going to support him in this, and they could run away together and start a new life. That sounded like it would be an adventure. He wasn't sure how well he was going to do when he went out into the world - he wasn't used to being outside, wouldn't know what to do. It was different when he was under guard, when he was being watched by Mister Priest or even by Agent Black. In that way, he was still like a prisoner. He didn't know how to be anything else.

But with Lamia there, things might be be better. Admittedly, C.J. wouldn't be able to just hide as a chair if he needed to, but having her around just made things better for him. He smiled at Michael shyly, and Michael smiled back, leaning in to brush his lips against C.J.'s cheek. 

 

He wondered how Lamia would feel about being a teddy bear, if she would want to cuddle up against him a lot. He knew she used to enjoy it, but their time recently had been more limited than it used to be. He wasn't a child any more, and he wasn't a test subject, so he had to do work to get time with her. It was still better than the testing.

***

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur. With no new cases they were stuck on base, and he wasn't able to earn any time with Lamia. Yet Michael would slip him notes saying about progress that they had made, and he realised that they were actually going in the right direction. It was possible that this was going to work out, that he was going to be able to escape.

The Colonel asked him to feed Project Incubus, and he made his own way down to their cell, his heart hammering in his chest. It was still terrifying, the way it always had been, but he tried to tell himself he was doing this for a purpose - that he was going to feed them so they would be strong for when they escaped. 

He was almost at the door to their cell when he was suddenly shoved back into a wall, Priest looming over him. His heart started to race.  
"Hello Icarus."  
"H...hello Mister Priest?" C.J. tried to smile, to stay calm and not panic because panicking only ever made things worse.   
"You seem to be in a good mood today. You and Lieutenant Assistant been having fun?"

C.J. averted his eyes, shrugging slightly.  
"Because you've got another mission coming up, and this time I get to babysit-"  
"But Agent Black-"  
"Agent Black and Assistent seem to have been a bad influence on you Icarus. The Colonel isn't happy with how things are going."  
"I've been doing all my work," C.J. protested, his breath catching in his throat.

"You haven't found any cases to work on. You know the agreement - you get to be a person, to pretend like you're a real boy, and you help us track people of interest. You don't hold up your end of the bargain, we won't hold up ours..."  
"I didn't..." C.J. swallowed, ducking his head down. "I'm sorry sir. I'll have a better result on my next case-"  
"I'm sure you will..." Priest answered, keying in the code and shoving him in through the first set of metal doors. "Because the Colonel is already considering assigning you a new partner."

C.J. nearly screamed at that thought, his heart hammering in his chest. That wasn't what was meant to happen. He and Michael had to work together. He liked seeing Michael, they had fun. He hoped that maybe this was just Priest's way of ensuring the others had adequate food, that he was panicked enough that Incubus would be full. He couldn't be sure though. There was a chance that this was just a test, that he was messing around to humiliate C.J. and see what he did. But it might not be. 

The thought of losing Michael and Agent Black hurt more than he could easily put into words. It was good, knowing that they would be there - it gave him something to look forwards to, a reason to work hard and a clear reward when he did, and the thought of all of that being taken away made him want to cry. He shuddered as the doors slammed shut behind him, taking a few deep breaths and pretending that it was all alright. It was a claustrophobic space, completely dark, and he waited for the second set of doors to open so that he could feed them, so that this could all be over. Maybe they'd let him stay here this time, feed from this distance, and that would mean that he was safe, that he could be pulled out without needing to be gassed. He hated the knock out gas, the way panic built inside him when he breathed it in, knowing he was going to fall unconscious at any moment and unable to fight it. He took a deep slow breath, trying to relax a little and remind himself that everything was alright, that he was meant to be here.

The doors still weren't opening, and he whimpered a little, wondering about if somehow the mechanism had broken. He had always been afraid of getting trapped in a room somewhere in Blackwing, the key being thrown away, finding himself trapped forever. He whimpered again.  
"Not so brave, are you Icarus?" Mister Priest asked, and C.J. swallowed, wishing he could argue that it wasn't his name. It wasn't his name though, he knew that, and he tried to hold onto his identity.

Slowly the doors opened, and he stumbled forwards, panting a little. He took a deep breath, stumbling forwards, and it was the leader of Project Incubus that grabbed his arm and pulled him closer.  
"Where is she?" the leader snarled, throwing him back against the wall, and C.J. really wished people would stop throwing him around. He glared.  
"I don't know. I'm not actually in charge of the other projects. You do realise that, don't you?"  
"You're the prick's little lap dog," the leader snarled. "You could get us her."  
"I'll try," C.J. promised, his pulse racing. He wasn't sure that it was going to work, that he was going to manage to persuade the Colonel, but he was willing to at least try. 

"That's not good enough-" one of the others told him.  
"We need her," the little one added.  
"She needs us," the final member added, glaring. "We have to get her back."

"I'll try," C.J. promised, and the way they were snarling made him want to hide. He wished he could disappear back into the corridor, but then Mister Priest might be there. He was shaking a little, as they advanced on him, and he felt the world go blue, felt himself collapse forwards. One of Incubus grabbed him, stopping him from hitting the ground. He didn't have the strength to say thank you.

***

He slowly opened his eyes, feeling a beanbag beneath him.  
"Ceej?" Michael's voice asked, and C.J. felt himself relax a little, sighing from a tension that he hadn't realised was trapping him.  
"He said I might be reassigned," C.J. murmured, making himself open his eyes even though he felt exhausted. 

Agent Black held a hot chocolate up to his lips, and he sipped slowly, enjoying the sweet taste of it. He yawned, smiling at her gratefully.  
"Thanks."  
"If you get reassigned I can try and stay on missions with you," Agent Black offered, and C.J. cringed. He desperately wanted to agree, but at the same time he knew that he wasn't the one who needed her most of all.  
"You're trained for Project Lamia now. She needs friends."   
"You do too," Agent Black agreed, embracing him momentarily, whispering against his ear. "It’s going to be okay."

He nodded, curling up a little where he sat, wrapping his arms around himself. Michael settled down beside him, perching awkwardly on the beanbag and hugging him tightly.   
"You can do this, C.J.. You are a Blackwing agent, and you're doing well." Michael's hand had found his, and he leaned in again and kissed him softly. C.J. felt a bit embarrassed as he leaned in to kiss him back, not knowing how long this was going to last.

Michael had said they'd escape. But he couldn't believe it. It didn't work like that, not for him. He was afraid, he was going to find himself back in a cell or with a new colleague, and Michael would forget him, and then everything would be gone.

***

Getting called into the Colonel's office left him frightened. He remembered when he'd been little, when he'd believed that the Colonel was going to save him, that he was going to make the world alright. He couldn't believe it any more though. Nothing was going to be alright. He woke up early, switching off his alarm clock, committing that to memory. Being able to turn off his alarm was an amazing thing, but something that wasn't going to last, he understood that. He'd find himself back in the cell, an alarm calling him up every morning.

He tried to understand the fact that would be his fate. He'd only ever been allowed to be an agent because it would be a new way of testing his abilities, but it wasn't going to last. He'd failed.

He went to the Colonel's office after showering, wondering if he was going to lose everything now, or if it was just going to be Michael that he lost. Even losing Michael was going to hurt him a lot.

He knocked politely and then pushed open the door. The Colonel smiled and gestured for him to take a seat.  
"Hello Agent Cjelli. How are you feeling?"  
"I'm good, thank you sir. Do I have a new mission?"  
"There is a mission that I think you will be suited for, which involves investigating the abilities of a man that is managing to make a habit of winning big in casinos across the country. It might just be a coincidence, but I know that you like researching coincidences. I thought it might be good for you to go with Agents Friedkin and Adams."

C.J. tried not to pull a face, knowing that he didn't actually have any choice in who he was assigned to, but really wishing that the Colonel would choose someone else. The Colonel was looking at him curiously. He shrugged slightly.  
"Is there any reason for those two sir?"  
"I just supposed that it would make sense to give you a chance to work with some new people. I think perhaps you and Lieutenant Assistent have had too long just working on your own, and this might be a better chance for you. I feel like if you only work with one agent, then you won't know how to work with other people. If however you aren't happy, I am sure that we could arrange it so that Priest can accompany you."

"No." C.J. shook his head, feeling himself tense in fear. "I don't need that, Sir. Sorry."  
"It's alright Svlad." The Colonel smiled, and C.J. made himself smile back, to try and be the good boy he used to be. "I know that you can do these missions. I just haven't been making sure that you are properly looked after, I've been forgetting... you're easily influenced, and you need more support than I've been providing."  
"Sorry sir-" C.J. mumbled, and the Colonel reached out to squeeze his shoulder.  
"It's okay Svlad. We can still work this out. I know that these cases have been helpful for you, you just need to focus more."

"I'll try sir," C.J. promised, and the Colonel handed over a file.  
"You're heading off first thing tomorrow."  
"Yes sir, thank you sir." C.J. slipped away, taking the file with him and heading back to the room he shared with the others. He sat down at the desk, spreading out the papers.  
"Heading out on a mission with Friedkin and Adams first thing in the morning," he announced, and then Michael was beside him, an arm around his shoulders. Michael leaned in and kissed him softly, pulling back to breathe against his lips.  
"You'll be gone by then."

He looked up at him, eyes shining with hope, and Michael kissed him again.


	9. Chapter 9

Michael had hoped that there was going to be a long time to put the final pieces of the puzzle into place, so that they could make sure the plan was fully established, but if C.J. was being reassigned he knew they were going to have to act a lot more quickly than he had wanted to. There was too much that could potentially go wrong if C.J. was having to work with other people. That evening he walked C.J. back to his room, sharing another kiss and smiling softly.  
"I'll see you soon," he promised. C.J. looked at him hopefully, and he hoped that this was going to succeed, that he wasn't just finding a new way to betray him.

He left work with Agent Black, knowing that they had to act quickly. The clock was ticking, and he didn't know if he had ever felt so out of his depth. The more he thought about it, the more that he could see potential ways everything could go wrong. He'd told C.J. he'd be willing to take the risks if it would keep him safe, but now his death was a looming possibility if any part of this went wrong, and he was afraid. 

Agent Black smiled him with a confidence he couldn't share.   
"You aren't having regrets are you Michael?"  
"Not about escaping with him!" Michael said quickly. "I want that. I want so much to be with him. It's more... I keep thinking about how it might go wrong. What it will mean to both of us."  
"It'll be worse for him," Farah answered, and Michael glared.  
"I don't know if that sounded reassuring in your head, but that... it isn't actually what I wanted to hear."   
"Good," Farah said quickly. "Then maybe you'll focus." 

Michael wanted to yell, but he knew that she was on their side. It was just that she was probably nervous as well. She was one in a long line of agents, with relatives filling the ranks of the army and the police. She was going to throw all of that away, and that was a scary thought for him, let alone for her after everything that had happened, but he couldn't change it. She was going to have to risk everything, they both were, and the chances were that it wouldn't work. But there was no way things could stay where they were. That was what Priest and the Colonel had ensured. They could either get better or worse, but he couldn't just stay where he was and hope for the best, couldn't just tread water.

"Tell me what you are planning."  
She nodded, driving them back towards her apartment and leading him inside. He sat down awkwardly on the sofa, amazed by how tidy everything was.   
"You have to pack tonight Michael. And you can't take much, you understand that?"  
"I do," he agreed, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

"The people I've made contact with... it's going to be difficult to start with, those first few days. You understand it... isn't going to be anything like what you've faced before?"  
"I understand." Michael sighed. He'd listened before to what to expect, and it sounded terrifying. He hated the idea that something might go wrong, that the four of them might find themselves trapped forever in a literal hellscape.

"You don't." She sighed. "Look, I trust them-"   
"You barely know them," Michael answered. "How do you know that they won't betray you the first chance they get?"  
"Because I know what I saw. I've met people like them before Michael. We don't have another option. Anyway, they could have gone to the press with what I told them, but they dealt with it, and she even put some extra airbeds there." Farah stared at him. "This is our one chance. We let them all go, and in the chaos, we grab C.J. and take him to safety, or else he's going to end up seeing less and less of you until he slips through your fingers entirely. There's nothing he can do right now to save himself."

"I just..." Michael hesitated. "I don't want to die."  
"No one does," Farah told him. "Look, C.J. trusts you. And I'll be going in tomorrow and doing everything I can to free him. You can come with me. I'll be at your place first thing tomorrow to grab your bag. But if you're not there, if you don't want to be involved - then just don't come in tomorrow. I can do this without you. I know what I am doing, and we don't need you there. You can claim innocence, and I'll never tell them you're involved. You'll lose C.J. but if you aren't willing to fight for him, then you'll lose him either way."

"You make it all sound so..."  
"So what?" she asked curiously.  
"So simple." He sighed. "You know that I'll have to throw away everything, even if this works?"  
"I know. We all have to do that," she told him. "But I can't stay with how things are. I can't watch my friend die every day. Now maybe you can. But if so, he’s better off without you."

"I never said I wasn't going to."  
"Just trust me," she told him. "I have a plan, and it will work out." With that, she headed to the front door. "Go home, pack. I'll come and get you in the morning."

Michael stumbled out of the building, thoughts racing in frantic circles around his head. All he could think of was the million different ways that it could go wrong, how easily he could die, how C.J. might lose the opportunity to wear the uniform he'd worked so hard for. 

He made his way home, flopping backwards onto the bed and thinking through what he knew. Farah had told him she was going to be doing what was right, that she had spoken to some people and she knew what she was doing. There would be new IDs, assuming everything went well. The first few days, apparently they'd be hidden, and then if it was possible they'd emerge back out into the world.

He'd never get to show C.J. the apartment he rented, with a fishtank in the corner of the kitchen and a dozen novels and books about conspiracy theories. He put some of the holiday food with the fish, writing a note to his neighbour saying he had to leave and that her daughter could have the fish. Then he started to pack, trying to prioritise what he needed most.

It was hard, trying to trap an entire life into one suitcase, to narrow things down to a point he'd be able to carry them. There were a couple of well-thumbed, signed copies of books that he put into his bag, a few of his favourite shirts and ties, a pen with a little flying saucer on it and a DVD signed by David Duchovny. It wasn't the most practical packing, but it was what mattered to him, what he couldn't imagine leaving behind. He placed the bag on the desktop counter, and then tried to get some rest. He didn't bother pulling on his pyjamas, not wanting to hold Farah up when she arrived.

He could see the lights dancing across the ceiling, feeling almost like he was waiting for aliens to come and whisk him away from everything that he knew. He was dozing lightly when he heard the doorbell ring, and he stumbled to his feet. He posted the note under the neighbour's door as he walked downstairs, the bag in his arms.

"So you came then?" she asked him, and if he detected any kind of surprise there he chose to ignore it, because he didn't want to deal with that. He put the bag into the trunk, and settled into the passenger seat.

"I am not leaving him," Michael insisted. He knew how C.J. got when he went outside, couldn't imagine that he would be overly pleased with having to hide in the footwell during their rescue. But that was only going to be temporary, and then they would be escaping into freedom. He also suspected that the fact the blanket covering C.J. would be Project Lamia might go some way towards reassuring him that everything was going to work out.

They drove in as normal, and he immediately checked who was in on base, relieved to see that both Agent Friedkin and Technician Adams were still there. That meant C.J. would be as well - C.J. just didn't have a formal sign in - there was no point for him, as he couldn't leave base the same way the rest of them could.

Agent Black glanced at him.   
"Remember, you need to check in on Succubus first."  
"I know," he agreed. That was the plan. Keep Succubus away from any of the Blackwing staff until Project Incubus arrived, and then go and get Project Lamia, before making his way to C.J.'s room, because C.J. wouldn't leave unless he knew that Lamia was safe. Meanwhile, Agent Black would be doing whatever was needed to get them all off base.

"Good luck Michael."  
"Good luck Farah," he said in return, reaching out and embracing her for a moment before heading off to Succubus's room.

He was expecting her normal shouts and swearing when he approached, or else the sound of screaming if she was suffering from her illness. What he wasn't expecting was for her to be silent until he pulled back the viewing hatch, at which point he saw she was sitting on the edge of the bed, a few items beside her.  
"What've you got there?" he asked, trying to see it, to work out what personal possessions she had been allowed. He thought those had been confiscated after the last incident.

There was a little paper star there, and a handkerchief, and what looked like a scrap of material - white with an edge of red, not dark grey and yellow like her own.  
"I thought I'd need them," she told him, smiling a little. She got to her feet, staying a safe distance from the door, and stretching a little, before picking them up. "One of the visions."  
"You're meant to report your visions," he reminded her. She snorted, raising her eyebrow.   
"You sure you want me reporting these?"  
"Do you know if it works?" he asked, and she shook her head, then smirked.

"If I were you, I'd be moving out of the way about now-"  
A moment after she spoke there was the sound of manic howling, and of metal being hit and glass being smashed. Michael didn't need telling twice, racing towards Lamia's room. He made it inside just as the alarms started to blare, telling him that the entire base was going into lockdown. He cursed. There'd be no way out.

"Hello!" Lamia called out. Apparently, she was having one of her person days today, sitting in her box in her pretty white dress. The guards around them shifted uneasily at the alarm, and Michael was struck again by how very easily she would be able to kill everyone on the base if she so wished. He tried not to consider that.

A moment later he couldn't help thinking about it, as she transformed into a cannon and blasted her way through the wall, the glass box she was in shattering. The air was full of smoke, and he coughed, trying to breathe more easily and struggling to get the air into his lungs. He cringed, and the men who were meant to guard her looked disoriented. She was human again in a moment, skipping through the rubble and taking his hand.  
"Come on, Cee is waiting for us." She tugged slightly, and he stumbled after her, his heart pounding in his chest. His ears were still ringing, and he wanted to catch his breath, but she was pulling him along and he stumbled until he reached C.J's door, knocking. There was no answer.

He turned to Lamia, who fluttered to the floor as an override key. He used it to force open the door, finding that C.J. was curled up on the bed, lying on his side with his knees towards his chest, whimpering to himself.

"C.J.?"   
"Michael! You came, oh that's wonderful!" C.J. was on his feet in a moment, embracing him. "I'll be honest with you Michael, I'm not entirely sure what's happening at the moment, but it does seem to be rather chaotic. Aren't we meant to be in lockdown?"  
"This was the plan-" Michael answered, and the keycard in his hands was Lamia again. She raced forwards, wrapping her arms around C.J., and then she was a brilliant yellow jacket around his shoulders. She cuddled against him tighter for a moment, and then C.J. was hugging Michael.

"Is there anything you want to take, C.J.?"  
C.J. grabbed a notebook, and then took Michael's hand.  
"You."

Michael laughed nervously, aware he'd ended up ahead of himself on the plan. But there was no time to refine it. The two of them and the jacket that was actually Lamia raced down corridors to the waiting garage, and he could hear the sound of distant alarms but he didn't know what was happening. The entire base had fallen under a cacophony of noise. 

He reached Agent Black's car, and opened the door to the back seat, Michael instructing them.  
"C.J., need you to get in, and use Lamia as a blanket to hide under, can you do that?"  
"I can do that."

The three of them sheltered in the car in silence until the door opened and Agent Black walked in, covered in soot. She ran to their car, climbing in and starting up the engine.  
"Files are destroyed. We might actually survive this."

C.J. cheered from the backseat, and Michael couldn't help smiling in response, and allowing himself to feel a brief amount of hope.

***

Agent Black sped along roads at top speeds, doubling back and at points changing cars until Michael had no idea where on earth they were, and couldn't have sworn on whether they were north or south of where they started. C.J. had fallen asleep on the back seat, and was making soft snuffly noises, which melted Michael's heart. He wanted to hug him closer, but for now they had to keep moving.

He didn't recognise the place they were headed until he saw a familiar shape in the field.  
"We were here on a case?"  
"Bergsberg, Montana. It has a small pocket dimension. Initially that dimension had some kind of monster, but that's been removed. Apparently the decoration is a little garish, but Blackwing is likely to search within known space." She parked the car, and embraced a woman who ran up to her, handing her the keys. C.J. clambered out from the back, Lamia around his shoulders.  
"Grab your stuff, Michael," Agent Black instructed.  
He grabbed his bag, and then the lady was driving the car away.

"Where's she-"  
"She's going to burn the car, and hitchhike back," Farah answered instantly, leading the way. C.J. was looking at the house with a mixture of curiosity and fear, and Michael wrapped an arm around his shoulders.   
"This is only temporary."

"Miss Black!" a man called out joyfully, running forwards and embracing her. Farah made a strange sound, but hugged him back.  
"Thank you for this, Hobbs."  
"Well, gosh, you guys saved my life, it's not a big deal." He smiled. "It's just up here, if you go-"  
"I know the way," C.J. answered, and pulled Michael upstairs.

Before he knew what was happening, he was sliding down into a hideously coloured room which looked like Christmas had vomited into it, following C.J. who looked enthralled by the entire situation. Farah landed beside him a moment later.  
"This is it?"  
"This is it," she agreed. "There are three rooms with beds, there are multiple piles of canned food, the monster has been removed, and Hobbs and Tina will be coming to check on us regularly. There are also weapons." She pushed what looked to be a white and red gun into Michael's hands. "I'm sure you can't mess this one up. Now, if you need to escape in an emergency, you can head out of the front or back door, or any of the windows. It looks like static, but it's perfectly safe so-"

"We just need to try not to worry?" Michael tried to fill in, glancing at the windows which shadows danced across. He wanted to go home. He couldn't. C.J. though was smiling.  
"Can I explore?"  
"You can do what you want now C.J., you're free."  
"Why don't you decide on what room you want C.J.?" Farah suggested, and C.J. was off looking.

C.J. ran off down the corridor, and Michael took a few deep breaths to try and adjust.  
"You're sure we're safe here?" he asked Farah.  
"Assuming you don't hurt C.J., yes." She grinned in answer, and then reached out. "It's going to be okay. I have fake IDs in development for all of us, and -"  
"I found a room!" C.J. ran back in, grabbing Michael's hand. "I found a room for us." He led Michael along, to a room which looked almost empty, aside from a few shelves. A teddy was sitting on the pillow, but Michael suspected that was Lamia.

C.J. glanced at the small bed in the room he had chosen.  
"I guess this is... for us?"  
"I guess," Michael agreed. "You can have Lamia there for tonight, if you want?"

C.J. leaned in and started to kiss him, and he could feel C.J. holding him close. Michael returned the gesture, his hands skimming down his sides.

It was a fresh start. A fresh start in the side dimension of a creepy, deserted farmhouse, but still, a fresh start. He could work with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Lourdes for betaing, and everyone who read and was supportive. If you've enjoyed it please let me know, your reviews and encouragement mean the world to me!


End file.
